The Might of Sutekh
by Crystal Rose of Pollux
Summary: The Doctor and Jamie McCrimmon arrive in Chicago as Carl Kolchak is preoccupied with a series of mysterious cases where healthy people are begin found comatose in the city's alleyways. As the Doctor and Jamie get caught up in these happenings, as well, they all soon discover that the source of the trouble is a powerful, ancient being bent on revenge and destruction.
1. Unexpected

_Notes: the characters aren't mine (except for the female Sutekh follower), and the story is! I've been wanting to have the Doctor meet Carl Kolchak and work together on a happening for a while now, but didn't pin down a plot until recently; naturally, though, Jamie McCrimmon and Tony Vincenzo have to be a part of things! So here's this; from Sutekh's point of view, the events of "Pyramids of Mars" have already happened, but this is the Second Doctor in Season 6B, so he has no idea of those events, as they are in his future. Also, for Carl and Tony, this takes place after the events of season 1 of_ Kolchak: the Night Stalker.

* * *

It was a dark night in the heart of Chicago as a bunch of figures, dressed head to toe in violet robes, darted one by one into the depths of an abandoned building. They were unobserved and swift as they assembled before a man. This man was ordinary by appearance—and, indeed, for most of his life, had been ordinary. But, recently, the man had found himself the host to a foreign spirit—a creature that was using his body as a puppet to speak and act through, looking upon the robed minions.

"What news do you bring?" the possessed man asked.

"We believe we have found the keys, Lord Sutekh," the lead robed man replied, a sneer on his lips. "But we must make sure."

"There is no time to be sure!" Sutekh hissed, speaking through the unfortunate puppet. "I am weak and limited while I use these mortal puppets—and they don't last long. This one is going to collapse soon; you must find me another host that I can use until the night after next." His voice turned dangerous. "And you _must_ find the keys before the night after next. I will not wait another month!"

"We understand your frustrations, Lord Sutkeh," the lead robed man insisted.

"No, you do not!" Sutekh spat. "You have never died! You do not suffer, trapped behind the door of _Duat_! I must have that door opened so that I can escape in my own body!" The puppet caressed a medallion around his neck. "Were it not for this medallion, I would not have a link to the world of the living at all. But it is not enough. I cannot reach the full limits of my power like this."

"We're doing the best we can," the leader said. "We got you this far to find the keys you need to open the door. Just trust us to do the rest."

Sutekh hissed in frustration.

"Know this," he vowed. "If you fail me, _you_ will be my next puppet. Do you understand me!?"

"Absolutely," the robed man sneered. He turned to the other robed followers. "Do more research. Make sure those are the real keys before we take them, and not some replicas. We can't afford to be wrong."

" _You_ cannot afford to be wrong," Sutekh corrected him. "But fret not. I will provide you aid."

"Really?" the cult leader asked.

The puppet raised an arm, and about a dozen mummies now lumbered into view.

"They shall be my eyes and ears as you proceed, and they shall also be soldiers to use against those who oppose you," Sutekh said. "With them, you have no excuse for failure. Now, go!"

A second person in a robe—this one, a woman—now stepped forward.

"Will you not be joining us yourself, Lord Sutekh?" she asked.

"No. I must find another puppet—one that is more suited to my majesty," he coldly replied.

"You've been through so many puppets already!" the cult leader protested. "And you also leave the rejects behind! People are already talking about the coma patients being found in the streets—the authorities are getting involved, and they may end up finding us! What will you do then!?"

"By that time, I will have returned to my true form, and nothing else shall matter! All shall kneel before the might of Sutekh the Destroyer!" The puppet clenched a fist. "Even that meddlesome Gallifreyan." A hiss of anger filled the air. "I will see that Time Lord broken, lying at my feet as he watches me take this world he so adores, and he shall also watch me destroy his home world, Gallifrey!"

"Just remember; we've got an agreement," the cult leader said.

"Yes, yes, you will be spared," Sutekh said. "As long as you help me in all stages of my revenge—restoring me is only step one."

"I remember our agreement," the leader said. "Just make sure that you don't forget your part of it."

The puppet's response was a sneer.

"Do not insult me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the cult leader said, as he departed the hideout with his followers.

The puppet waited for them all to leave before leaving the hideout himself, looking for another host.

This false life would end soon; once he was restored to his former glory, Sutekh would reign supreme. And that foolish Time Lord would live to regret what he had done.

* * *

Carl Kolchak was running late. The seasoned reporter had been holding an ear to the ground ever since word had started coming in about seemingly healthy people in Chicago being found comatose on the streets. Medical professionals had done their best to determine the cause of their condition, and nothing as of yet had been found.

Foul play was beginning to be brought up as a possibility, though no links were being found to anyone as of yet. And Carl was determined to find out what could be behind this.

But pondering over the possibilities, as well as trying to get a look at the hospitalized patients, had put him behind schedule. And now, Carl was careening through the alleyways of Chicago in his classic Mustang, aiming to take a shortcut to work to avoid the wrath of his editor, Tony Vincenzo.

He'd been making good time via his shortcuts, and probably would have succeeded in his endeavors had it not been for a last-minute snag—as he turned into an alley, he found the way blocked by a large, blue box with the words "POLICE BOX" painted at the top.

Carl slammed on the brakes, the front bumper of his car stopping an inch from the police box. Not wanting to deal with any potential traffic tickets, and not wanting to waste any further time while already late, he threw the Mustang in reverse, flew out of the alley, and careened away, all the while wondering why a British police box had suddenly appeared in a largely-unused Chicago alley.

And only seconds after Carl's hasty retreat, the police box doors opened to reveal a rather shabbily-dressed man with an untidy moptop of hair. Though he looked human, the two hearts that pulsed in his chest proved otherwise; he was a Gallifreyan Time Lord—the very same Gallifreyan Time Lord that Sutekh had vowed revenge against, only the complication was that he had no idea, as it was one of his future selves that had encountered Sutekh. As such, he was blissfully unaware that he was in the same city as a being that loathed him beyond comprehension; for the moment, his biggest concern was the sound of screeching tires he had heard outside the police box.

"Odd…" he mused. "I thought I heard something out here just a moment ago. Ah, well; it doesn't matter I suppose. Jamie, come out here and see this!"

The shabbily-dressed Time Lord was soon joined by a stocky, much younger man in a sweater and kilt. This man also looked human—and actually was; he was a piper from the Scottish Highlands of the 1740s that the Doctor had rescued.

"So this is Chicago in the future, aye, Doctor?" he asked, his voice thick with his accent.

"Yes, Jamie; we're here in the year 2015, free from any influence whatsoever of the notorious Al Capone. Now we can enjoy our holiday!" the shabby Doctor said, a grin forming on his face.

"Ye said we were going t' go to 1945's Chicago t' see the post-war celebrations," Jamie pointed out.

"…So we're off by sixty years; there's no need to complain about it!" the Doctor huffed. "I told you we needed to get away from Al Capone's era of Chicago, and we've done that! That was the most important thing."

"Mm-hmm," Jamie said, folding his arms. "Yer timing was off. Again."

"Now, Jamie—Prohibition is long over and you can go on as many pub crawls as you like while we're here without any fear of speakeasies or mobsters," the Doctor said.

"Aye, I like that!" the Scot said, with a grin. "Shall we find a pub?"

"Later, Jamie; I promise," the Doctor said. "There's so much to see while we're here! There's the Sears Tower—ah, but they call it the Willis Tower in this era, of course… There's Navy Pier up by Lake Michigan…"

"Can we fish?" Jamie asked.

"Oh yes," the Doctor said, with an eager look in his eyes. "I'm not sure about the waterfowl laws around here, alas; we shall have to check on that. But if waterfowl is off of the menu, then we can, at least, feast on some fish. Now, then; before we get to the fishing, there are other things to see. The Field Museum, for instance, has a nice collection of artifacts from different eras-"

The piper let out a groan.

"Now, you stop that. Scotland is not the only important part of human history," the Doctor chided him.

"It should be."

"Oh, I see you're going to be difficult today, aren't you?" the Doctor sighed, but still giving him a fond smile. "Let's go for a walk, then; perhaps a nice walk will get you to open up your mind a bit."

Jamie smiled in spite of himself as the Doctor ruffled his hair. He wasn't able to explain why he had somehow clicked with this alien from another planet and time; somehow or other, they had simply grown closer and closer with each stumble into adventure. Though they had been separated once, they were together again now, enjoying one another's company immensely. And neither of them wanted that to change.

It was mainly just idle chatter between the two of them as they wandered through the back alleys of Chicago; it was in one of these alleys that the Doctor stopped in his tracks. Following his gaze, Jamie saw that there was a man lying on the ground, staring unblinkingly up at the sky.

"Doctor!" Jamie exclaimed. "That chappie! Is he…?"

"No, Jamie; he's alive," the Doctor said, as he checked his vital signs. "Alive, but… in some sort of strange coma! Completely unresponsive to any stimuli, and yet… Breathing on his own."

"What could have caused that?" the Scot asked.

The Gallifreyan scratched his head.

"I don't quite know, Jamie," he admitted. "But this poor fellow needs help; and we must get him some at once!"

"Aye," Jamie said, taking out the smartphone that the Doctor had given him as a gift some time ago. "Who should I call?"

"Dial 999. No, no—wait! It's different here! …Ah, yes, 911; that's it. After we're certain he's in good hands, we shall have to do a bit of detective work and see if we can find the source of this bizarre coma."

"Aye, right," the piper said, dialing.

 _So much for a peaceful holiday_ …

* * *

Carl Kolchak, in the meantime, had finally reached the Independent News Service—quite late. And, sure enough, as he barreled into the office, Tony Vincenzo regarded him with an exasperated look.

"Well, look who _finally_ decided to show up!" Tony chided.

"Sorry, Tony; something came up," Carl said. "I was trying to see if I could get a look at those coma patients—"

"Carl, will you forget about those coma patients?"

"Forget?! Tony, these are seemingly healthy individuals, dropping into unresponsive states, and yet their breathing and heartrates and everything else you can think of are all completely normal!"

"And you think another one of those monsters you're always chasing has something to do with this!?" Tony asked.

"You never know," Carl said, with a shrug. "And I didn't think you believed any of my stories, anyway; why the sudden interest?"

"I have no sudden interest in your wild tales!" Tony assured him. "What I care about is you getting here on time, like you're supposed to!"

"Don't worry, Tony; I'll be here," Carl said.

It was then that the TV, which had been set to a local news channel, suddenly flashed a "Breaking News" banner.

"We've just gotten reports in that another mysterious coma patient has been found in a Chicago alleyway—" the reporter was saying.

"Oh, great, another one?" Tony asked. He winced as he felt Carl barrel past him again, heading for the door once more. "Carl-!"

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Tony; I just need to check up on this!" the reporter called, giving his editor a wave.

"Carl, you just got here!" Tony bellowed, as the reporter dashed down the hall. "You can't just go…!" He stared, blankly, at the doorway, as he realized that Carl had done exactly that. " _KOLCHAK_!"

Minutes later, the sound of the Mustang pealing out of the parking lot was heard by all inside.

"Oh, mama mia…" Tony groaned, facepalming.

It was quickly shaping up to be another one of _those_ days—and the day had only just begun.


	2. The Time Lord and the Beastie Hunter

Carl, keeping one ear on the news, was hoping to find the latest comatose patient before the authorities had gotten involved. This was not to be, however; police cars were already ahead of him.

Undaunted, Carl parked on one of the streets and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. There, in the alley, he could see the patient being carried onto a stretcher. And a man Carl recognized as Captain Rausch of the Chicago Police was questioning two oddly-dressed civilians—obviously the ones who had found the man.

Carl had run afoul of Rausch several times before; keen on avoiding this to happen again, the reporter crept forward, hoping to be unobserved while listening to the civilians' report.

"That's really all there is to it, I'm afraid," the first civilian—a shabbily-dressed man said. "My companion and I were merely walking here and found the poor fellow, completely unresponsive."

"And you found no trace of a weapon or a struggle?" Rausch asked. "No sort of clues whatsoever?"

"I say, isn't that your job, to be looking for clues?" the man asked.

"Ye can hire us t' look for clues!" the other civilian said, in a Scottish accent. "We have a private detective agency: Smith and McCrimmon Investigative Services, Limited—" He was cut off with a yelp as the other man gently gave him a nudge with his elbow.

"We are on holiday, Sir," the first man stated, as the Scot stood in a silent pout. "And we wish to return to our self-guided tour of this city posthaste. We've told you everything we possibly know about the matter."

"Yes, I see that neither of you will have anything further of use to say," Rausch said. "You gentlemen may go on your way."

The captain turned, freezing as he saw Carl. The reporter hastily turned around and moved to run.

"Carl Kolchak!" Rausch bellowed, going in pursuit of him. "You are interfering with a police investigation!"

"I didn't even do anything!" the reporter quipped over his shoulder.

This, however, caught the Doctor's interest.

"Carl Kolchak? So that's him?" the Gallifreyan said, with a smile. "Oh my word, I never thought I'd actually cross paths with him!"

"But ye didnae cross paths," Jamie pointed out. "He's retreated before yer paths could cross!"

"Yes, pity about that…" the Doctor sighed. "Well, maybe we'll meet again."

"Who is this chappie ye admire so much, anyway?" Jamie inquired. "Ye ne'er mentioned him before."

"Well, he was never relevant to our conversations," the Doctor said. "But Carl Kolchak does a lot of the things that we do—on a much smaller scale, of course."

"He's a time-traveler?"

"No, no—I mean about defending the Earth. Well, he mainly restricts himself to defending the United States against the various creatures that invade it."

"Oh aye—he's a beastie hunter!"

"Exactly, Jamie!" the Doctor said, still watching as Rausch pursued Kolchak down the alley. "He's even got the attention of my people—he managed that when he slew the vampire Janos Skorzeny. And you know how much we Gallifreyans detest vampires…"

"I'm nae so fond of them myself," Jamie pointed out.

"Well, I should hope not. But Rassilon decreed that it was the duty of every Time Lord to deal with every vampire we encountered. Now, you know me, Jamie—I choose to be discretionary when it comes to things like that; I would like to give any creature a chance before I condemn it."

"Aye, I know…"

"The other Time Lords don't quite believe in that," the Doctor finished. "So when we heard about Janos Skorzeny causing a stir in Las Vegas, some members of the Celestial Intervention Agency were heading there to deal with him. But by the time they got there, the vampire had already been slain by Mr. Kolchak."

"And so the Time Lords hold him in high regard?" Jamie asked.

"Well… as highly as they'll ever regard a human, I suppose," the Doctor sighed. "At any rate, he did our work for us—he even slew another vampire in Los Angeles some years later. And he's been spending a lot of time in Chicago, dealing with various other 'beasties,' as you like to call them—werewolves, malevolent creatures, aliens—"

"Aliens!?" Jamie exclaimed. "Och, Doctor, we'd better get oot of here."

"Oh, but Jamie—"

"He's killed aliens, ye said! And in case ye forgot, ye _are_ one!"

"Oh, Jamie, I hardly think that he means me any harm; we're on the same side, after all, especially when it comes to the vampires—oh, my word!"

Jamie was practically dragging the Doctor down the alley in the opposite direction that Carl had run off to.

"Oh, very well, if it'll satisfy you…" the Doctor said, rolling his eyes. "But I do think that Mr. Kolchak will have his hands full without having to concern himself with me. He's obviously trying to learn about those coma patients. And I fear that he may find himself in quite a bit of danger from the source."

"Ye know what's causing it?" Jamie asked.

"At first I didn't, but based on what I've seen with that man we found, I have a guess," the Doctor said. "Did you not think it strange that a person in a coma has a normal heartrate and normal brain activity?"

"How do ye know aboot his brain activity?"

"Touch telepathy," the Doctor reminded him. "He had the brain activity of a conscious man, Jamie. And yet, he was completely unresponsive."

"So… what does that mean?" Jamie asked, still baffled about the whole thing.

"I believe there's some sort of mental parasite involved," the Doctor said. "And an unbelievable strong one, at that. While we were waiting for the police to arrive, I attempted to use my telepathic manipulation to try to bring the poor fellow to awareness. Something was actively resting me—not only was it blocking me, but it pushed me back!"

"Och, that _is_ too bad."

"My dear Jamie, I do believe you aren't fully understanding the implications of this. My people are among the strongest telepaths in the galaxy; our mental skills are supposed to be legendary! If something is able to block me from awakening that man, then whatever it is has stronger mental powers than a Gallifreyan!"

"…Oh," Jamie said, now looking worried.

"Yes, quite," the Doctor said. "The last times I had to struggle with another entity's mental skills were the Great Intelligence and the Master Brain of the Land of Fiction. And you know what happened then."

"Ye beat the Master Brain," Jamie pointed out. He winced, going red. "...And ye would've beaten the Great Intelligence if I hadnae ruined e'erything…"

"But I nearly lost!" the Doctor pointed out. "I ended up being stronger in the end, yes. But if this new entity is stronger than I am…"

"Aye, then that's further reason for us t' go back t' the TARDIS and go somewhere else!" Jamie said. "We don' need the risk of something taking over yer mind. Besides, if this Carl Kolchak chappie is as good a beastie hunter as ye say he is, he can deal with this thing and we can be on our way."

"Now, Jamie, you know that isn't how we deal with injustice in the galaxy," the Doctor chided him. "For one thing, a human's mental willpower will not be as strong as a Gallifreyan's—you saw how easily the Master Brain controlled that poor author, but couldn't control me that easily. Mr. Kolchak will be needing my help in this matter, whether he realizes it or not. And besides that, I am certain that you cannot, in good conscience, abandon Chicago to the will of whatever monster is behind these comas—no more than I could. Isn't that right, Jamie?"

"…Aye," the piper sighed. "But is there a way ye can do all this withoot getting too close to Mr. Kolchak?"

"But, Jamie—"

"Och, if he finds oot that ye're an alien with telepathic powers, he might think ye're the one putting people into comas in the first place!" Jamie pointed out. "He might be after ye if that happened!"

"Are you really that worried about it?" the Doctor queried. "Oh, I suppose I can try to distance myself from him, if you're that worried. But there may come a time very quickly when we shall be forced to work with him; you shall have to be willing to do that."

"Only as a last resort," Jamie agreed. "Aye, now that we've settled that, what do we do now?"

"We shall try to pinpoint where this creature is," the Doctor said. "And, if we can, observe and find out what exactly it is."

"How will we do that?" Jamie queried.

"I shall try to concentrate my telepathic abilities to see where I am getting the most resistance from," the Doctor said, closing his eyes.

"Can I help?" the Scot asked.

"Yes," the Doctor said, and he grabbed ahold of Jamie's wrist. "Concentrate and serve as my amplifier."

The piper sighed and did as he was told, hoping that this wasn't going to end up being too much for them to handle.

* * *

Carl had managed to avoid Captain Rausch, but it came at the price of being driven away from the alley. All evidence would've been catalogued and removed by now—and those two witnesses would have likely left.

Tired and disappointed, he called up Tony.

"Hey, Tony? I'm sorry for running out on you like that—"

"Carl, where have you been!? If you've been arrested again—"

"Tony, will you relax? Nothing happened!" He sighed. That was half the problem.

"I am very glad to hear that," Tony said. "Now get back here right away—before you don't have a desk to return to!"

"Tony, you don't mean that, do you!?" Carl said, in mock horror.

There was a beat of silence.

"Just get back here, huh? _Please_?"

"Don't you worry, Tony; I'm on my way back right…" Carl trailed off as he spotted a man dressed in an odd, purple robe, darting past the alley he was in. "Actually, Tony, hold that thought; I'll get back to you in a little bit."

He ended the call as Tony protested, put the phone on silent, and took off after the robed man.

The robed man slipped into the back door of an abandoned warehouse; Kolchak wanted to follow him, but knew it would be too foolish. Instead, he opted for standing on an old packing crate near the opening of a ventilation shaft. He held up his voice recorder and listened.

"What did you find out?" he heard a voice hiss.

"We still need to go back to the museum to confirm that we have found the exact keys we are looking for," a male voice answered.

"How is the new host, Lord Sutekh?" a female voice now asked.

"Weak, as all humans are," the first voice hissed. "But he will last me until the return of my own body. And you must not fail me—you will find out exactly as to whether or not that museum houses what we need."

"When do you wish us to go, Lord Sutekh?" the woman asked.

"Tonight," Sutekh insisted.

"Closing time is at 5:00," the other male voice said. "We'll go after that."

"No," Sutekh said. "Wait until nightfall—move under cover of dark. Should anyone be there aside from us, we will deal with them."

"You're sending the mummies with us?" the male voice asked.

"No, Fool—I will be with you through this puppet," Sutekh spat. "I tire of delays; my presence, I am sure, will significantly quicken the pace of things so that we will be on schedule for the full moon."

"If that is what Lord Sutekh wishes, then we shall agree," the woman said.

"It is what I wish, and you are not agreeing," Sutekh snarled. "This is my will—my order. You will not defy me, or else _you_ will be the next one found comatose."

Carl froze, trying to lean further towards the ventilator shaft.

"I had no intention of defying you, Lord Sutekh," the woman insisted. "We are here to serve you and see to your triumphant return. And we know better than to cross you; we know of your power."

Other voices now spoke up in agreement; Carl wasn't sure how many people were in that room, but it was, clearly, a significant amount. And whoever this "Lord Sutekh" was, he clearly had a significant amount of power over them—and was somehow the one behind the mysterious coma patients. In addition, Sutekh wanted something from these people—something from the museum. But what? And why?

Before Carl could attempt to work this out, the packing crate he had been standing on emitted a loud creak—just before it splintered, sending his foot going right through the top of the crate.

Not stopping to determine if the people inside had heard him, Carl turned around and ran, the crate still on his foot, hoping to escape before he became the next coma patient.


	3. Night at the Museum

Carl had made it to his Mustang and, after finally kicking the crate off of his foot, made a hasty retreat and sped through the maze of alleys before heading back to the main roads. He knew where he had to go now—he had to find out more about Sutekh, and then attempt to stake out the museum to see what exactly those cultists—and Sutekh—wanted from the museum. They'd mentioned something about keys, and a limit involving the full moon… But that could mean just about anything.

He made it back to the INS office in time to hear Tony complain about everything that had happened that morning.

"Carl, I hope you've got a really good reason as to why you ran in and out of here this morning!"

"Tony, look, I think I've finally got a big break in this story!" Carl said. "I overheard a bunch of cultists talking to a guy who claimed that he is behind the coma patients! …Well, not so much claimed as threatened to put someone else in that state, but you get the idea. He's claimed responsibility."

"What!?" Tony exclaimed. "Oh, great—is it another one of those guys? The ones who claim to be these powerful mystics and have a boatload of followers to do whatever dirty work they want!?"

"Possibly," Carl said. "But there is an off chance that he really is as powerful as he claims. Does the name Sutekh mean anything to you, Tony?"

"…Suit heck!?" Tony asked, mishearing.

"Sutekh, Tony—Sutekh!" Carl corrected him.

"Sutekh?" a third voice chimed in. Both Carl and Tony turned to see Ron Updyke looking over at them. "Sutekh, also known as Set, was one of the ancient Egyptian pantheon—the god of the desert, disorder, and, some say, destruction. He was infamous for having killed his brother Osiris. He's supposed to be the father of Anubis and Wepwawet—the two jackal-headed members of the pantheon."

"Thank you for that input, Ron," Tony said, and he turned to Carl. "Your prime suspect thinks he's an Egyptian god. This guy is _really_ messed up, whoever he is, and I want you to stay away from him!"

"Tony, he's got something planned!" Carl exclaimed. "You can't expect me to sit idly by while he has his way!"

"Force yourself," Tony insisted. "Now, I'm going to call the police; they'll pick this guy up and we'll all rest a little easier."

"Tony, it's _never_ that simple!" Carl protested. "For one thing, he could be anywhere by now since I left him in that alley, and assuming he is Sutekh—"

"Carl, I'm going to stop you _right there_ ," Tony said. "It is impossible for an Egyptian deity to be wandering around the alleys of Chicago."

"There's only one way to find out!" Carl countered. "Tony, you know I've seen all sorts of things in my career; can't you, for once, admit that there is a possibility that the unexplained might actually occur?"

Tony gave him a long stare.

"I don't care who or what this guy is," he said at last. "This guy is dangerous no matter who he is, and if you go near him, you run the risk of… I don't know _what_ he'd end up trying to do to you!"

"I shall take that risk, Tony!" Carl declared, as he got onto his computer to do more research until the museum closed. "After all, no one else will!"

Tony gave up, retreating to his office. He knew Carl well enough to know that no amount of coaxing or shouting would get him to change his mind.

"I really wish there _was_ some other guy that would deal with that stuff," Tony muttered. "I really do."

* * *

Unbeknownst to Tony, there was, indeed, someone else trying to deal with it—two people, in fact. The Doctor, still using Jamie as a telepathic amplifier, was trying to track the source of the great mental power.

He had managed to track something—a large mental presence in a warehouse in a back alley.

"I think I've found it, Jamie!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Just concentrate a little more—I want to see if I can tap into that thing's thoughts…"

There was a split-second vision of an assembly of people in violet robes, and the Doctor and Jamie heard a voice speak—

" _Wait until nightfall—move under cover of dark. Should anyone be in the museum aside from us, we will deal with them in my usual way_."

They were then shut out from any further vision; the being swore in an ancient tongue, and the Doctor gasped as snapped out of the vision, trying to catch his breath.

"What was that!?" Jamie asked, also harried from the immense amount of mental effort it had taken just for that one peek.

"That was it, Jamie—whatever it is!" the Doctor said. "My word—the moment it sensed me trying to take a peek, it practically threw me across its mindscape. I absolutely had to get away from there!"

The Doctor shuddered; it was something that he hadn't seen since he witnessed his future self engaging in a mental duel with Omega—only that time, he had merely watched it; this time, he had felt it.

"Who were all those people in that vision we saw?" the piper queried. "I only saw them for a moment, but they looked… evil."

"Evil?"

"Aye, they looked like a coven of witches," Jamie said, wrapping a hand around the blessed pendant that his father had given him long ago.

"Well, I don't know about them being witches, but they are certainly looking as though they are working with this entity," the Doctor said. "Whether willingly or not remains to be seen. I suppose then we'll be able to see if they are truly evil or not."

"Aye, but that's later. What happens now?" Jamie asked, quietly.

"That is an excellent question, Jamie, and I'm trying to work out the answer to that," the Doctor admitted. "You heard him mention something about the museum—after hours? They're planning something—and it must be the Field Museum—that's the most well-known of the Chicago museums."

Jamie saw the look in the Doctor's eyes and knew exactly what he was planning.

"We're going t' that Field museum," Jamie realized.

"Well…" the Doctor mused. "I was thinking more along the lines of you waiting in the TARDIS while I went to the museum."

Jamie froze.

"I don' like that idea," he stated, flatly.

"No?"

"No," Jamie agreed. "Ye'll run into some sort of trouble in there, I know it. And more than worrying about Chicago, my conscience willnae let ye deal with that alone."

"I should be grateful for that, I suppose," the Doctor sighed. "Very well, Jamie—you may come along. But mind that you stay close to me—don't go wandering off."

"That would defeat the purpose of going with ye; I won' wander," Jamie promised. "But what will we do now? It's barely midday—those witches won' be sneaking aboot the museum until nightfall."

"Oh, we're going to spend the remainder of the day there," the Doctor said. "We'll have to familiarize ourselves with as much of the museum as we can—the public areas, at least. I'll use the Stattenheim remote control to bring the TARDIS to the museum around closing time—I'll make her invisible, and we can hide in there and have an early supper while everyone leaves. Then, we'll wait for our, ah… coven to arrive."

Jamie pondered over this.

"Aye, I suppose I can go along with that—on one condition."

"What's that?"

"We tuck in to a big lunch now—if I have t' go until evening withoot eating, then I want t' make sure I'm full."

The Doctor smiled.

"Alright, Jamie. Lunch, it is."

* * *

Carl had also deduced that it was the Field Museum that Sutekh had been referring to—there was an impressive collection of Egyptian artifacts there, and there was probably something there—or in storage—that was the key that he was looking for. Hopefully, he could find the keys before Sutekh did.

Reading up on Sutekh had Carl stumble upon an article written by a Miss Sarah Jane Smith, telling tale of an alleged incident in 1911, involving the death of an archaeologist and his brother in England, slain by Sutekh, whose grand designs for being freed from entrapment within a pyramid on Mars were thwarted by man she referred to as "the Doctor." The article went on to suggest that the Egyptian gods were once real beings—powerful aliens from another world, known as the Osirians—that had been seen as powerful deities by the ancient people. Sutekh had been an Osirian who had ill intentions for the galaxy—and thus had been imprisoned for the safety of all.

Carl stared blankly at his computer screen. Of all the explanations he had been expecting, that certainly hadn't been it. He would have to contact this Sarah Jane Smith and get some more answers; but that would have to wait—Carl would have to go to the museum before Sutekh got there.

He bid Miss Emily a good evening as he got up from his desk, and he paused before going out the door to give a cursory farewell to Tony.

The weary editor just sighed and nodded—not that there was much else he could do about it. All he could do was just sit by his phone and wait for a call that would come later that night—and hopefully, it would be Carl making the call, and not a policeman informing him of the unfortunate fate that he was worried would befall him.

Carl, for his part, certainly hoped that it would be him calling Tony later, as well. Indeed, he was often wondering why he always seemed to be the one to run into these oddities that almost always turned out to be full-fledged monsters. If he could pass the buck to someone competent, he'd gladly do it—but that someone competent had yet to manifest themselves. Until then, it was his thankless task. But Carl was not without contacts and allies. He had a friend who worked on the museum staff who, after much wheedling and coaxing, had lent him a key to the museum, as well as giving him the codes to the security cameras so that he could turn them off and on as he needed to. His friend had only done this with the agreement that it could only happen in case of an emergency, but as far as Carl was concerned, this qualified.

It was 8PM by the time Carl made it to the museum—three hours after closing time. The first thing he noticed while unlocking the side door, however, was that someone had already deactivated the security cameras. The lights were off inside; Carl used a flashlight to guide himself through the hallways of the museum. There didn't seem to be anyone else around as he made his way to the Egyptian exhibit. His flashlight beam came to rest upon a withered mummy, causing his heart to skip a beat. Exhaling, he brought the beam upwards in an arc around the room—and froze in his tracks as the beam, reaching its highest point, reflected off of two glowing red eyes that were peering out from behind an ancient column.

A cry of fright left his lips—and also did so from the glowing-eyed being. As Carl turned and ran, he was vaguely aware of someone yelling something—

"Run, Jamie, run!"

He didn't stop to figure out who Jamie was or what was that thing with the glowing eyes; he had to get to some place of relative safety!

He heard footsteps behind him—running in the opposite direction. If it hadn't been for the fact that the voice was different than any of the ones he had heard in the warehouse earlier that day, he'd have suspected that the glowing-eyed being was Sutekh. But he hadn't heard this voice before—whoever it was seemed to be sneaking in the museum independently of Sutekh.

Carl caught his breath under the towering form of Sue the _T. rex_ ; after that incident, perhaps his best bet was to leave, he knew—but he had to stop Sutekh from accomplishing whatever it was he was looking for. He would have to go back to the Egyptian exhibit, glowing-eyed creature or not…

A commotion elsewhere in the museum distracted Carl; something was going on in the Grainger Hall of Gems—something violent, by the sound of it.

"It's them!" Carl realized aloud.

Abandoning any further thoughts of the happenings in the Egyptian exhibition, Carl dashed towards the Hall of Gems as the struggle continued. He arrived in time to see someone—a museum janitor, judging by his uniform—being held in place by the purple-robed cultists. One man stood glaring at him, holding up an Egyptian medallion around his neck.

The man pressed the medallion to the janitor's arm; the moment it touched his skin, the janitor went slack, falling into a wide-eyed, completely unresponsive state.

"Does he know where they are, Lord Sutekh?" one of the cultists asked.

"No," the man wearing the medallion hissed. "He knows nothing. But you said they were not in the Egyptian exhibit last night. This is the only other place they can be—"

The lights suddenly went on all over the museum—and the alarm started sounding. The man cursed and motioned for the cultists to flee.

And Carl, at the entrance of the room, suddenly realized that there was no way he could run ahead without being seen.


	4. Hello, Sarah Jane

_Notes: I have Sarah Jane describe Three's regeneration as having a golden glow, and though that golden glow was never actually shown onscreen, the novelization of "Planet of the Spiders" describes the golden glow, so it can be assumed that there was always meant to be a golden glow during regeneration, but the special effects weren't able to properly show it until New Who_.

* * *

Carl was still contemplating on what to do when he suddenly had the idea to throw himself on the floor just behind the door, pretending to be unconscious. Maybe, just maybe, anyone who took the time to look behind the door would see him lying there and assume that he was already comatose.

It seemed to work; they took no notice of him, and the one who claimed to be Sutekh was snarling as he strode past Carl.

"That an Osirian should flee on account of the incompetence of human servants!" he hissed. "They shall all pay for this humiliation once they have exhausted all use!"

The reporter registered the word Osirian—that word had shown up in Sarah Jane Smith's article that he had read earlier that day.

The running feet seemed to have stopped by now; Carl was just about to get up from his hiding place when the other door across from his door moved slightly—someone had been hiding behind it.

Carl now retreated fully behind his door.

"It was them!" a voice with a Scottish accent exclaimed over the alarm. "The coven!"

"I don't think they're witches," another voice replied. "That one in charge mentioned the Osirians—he must be being used as a vessel by one of them, whoever or whatever they are. There's some research to be done, Jamie."

"Aye, let's get oot of here."

"Yes. …I do wonder what became of that fellow who surprised us in the Egyptian exhibit though…"

The two took a few steps, but Carl heard them stop as more voices approached from down the corridor.

"I think it's the police!" Jamie exclaimed. "We can tell them aboot that poor chappie who got comatose!"

"Jamie, we're not supposed to be here!" the other person exclaimed. "Come with me; we shall make our exit over here with the Old Girl."

They headed back inside the Hall of Gems—but Carl knew there was no exit there. Baffled, Carl now came out of hiding, trying to see if maybe he could ally himself with these vigilantes—or whoever they were—and inform them that they won't get out that way.

As he reentered the Hall of Gems, Carl was aware of a strange, wheezing sound that he had never heard before—

 _Vwoorp-vwoorp-vwoorp_.

He had no idea what that sound was; nor did he have the time to ponder over it—within moments, he was surrounded by Rausch's men. Rausch himself showed up, giving a rather stony glare at Carl, looking at the comatose janitor, and back to Carl again.

The reporter let out a nervous chuckle.

"You know, you'll never believe what I saw here just five minutes ago…" he began, but he was cut off as his arms were forced behind his back and handcuffs were placed on his wrists. "…Yeah, you'll never believe it." He gave a defeated sigh as he watched Rausch's men look over the janitor.

Idly, he wondered who the other two people were—and how they had managed to get away without being caught. More than that, he wondered what Tony would say when he called to ask him to bail him out.

* * *

"Nothing!" the Doctor sighed, placing his 500-Year-Diary aside. "Absolutely nothing in here about the Osirians! You'd have thought that if there was a race of creatures with stronger telepathic abilities than us, that we Gallifreyans would have mentioned _something_ about them—at least to know where we stand!"

"Aye, but yer people like t' keep t' themselves and pretend that nothing ootside of yer planet is worth getting involved in," Jamie pointed out.

"…Yes, I suppose that's true…" the Doctor said. "Hmm, I wonder if the other fellow who surprised us has any idea on what the Osirians are."

"We ne'er did find oot who that was," Jamie said. "Or if he got away from the coven and the Osirian."

"Yes, and I do feel guilty about that," the Doctor admitted. "We should have made sure he was alright—pity we had to run. And now that I think about it, our friend in the Egyptian exhibit must have been Carl Kolchak! We already saw him when we discovered the coma patient this morning; he must have been trying to find out about the Osirian, as well—and that's how we all ended up at the Egyptian exhibit! …Of course, they were coming from the Hall of Gems instead…"

"Och, it's a good thing he di'n know it was ye," Jamie said. "Remember what I said aboot him possibly blaming ye fer all of this!"

"Be that as it may, Jamie, I think we shall have to contact him," the Doctor said, after mulling this over. "I don't know what the Osirians are capable of, but perhaps he has figured out something—we must find out!"

Jamie folded his arm and shook his head.

"It's too much of a risk—what if he finds oot who ye are!?"

"It cannot be helped, Jamie—we need assistance with this problem!" the Doctor insisted. "We need all the help we can get!"

"Well, if we have t' get help from this Carl Kolchak chappie, then maybe I should just meet him alone," the piper insisted.

The Doctor looked surprised at this, and then mulled it over.

"I suppose if you're careful to get all the details from him, it could work," he mused. "I could give you a list of questions to ask him in advance."

"Aye, that could work!" Jamie said, nodding. "Let's go with that, then."

"There is just one little issue…" the Doctor said, looking at the Scot with some amount of amusement.

"What's that?"

The Doctor indicated Jamie's kilt.

"How are you going to explain to Mr. Kolchak about that authentic 18th-century tartan you're wearing?"

Jamie looked down, staring at his kilt.

"I'll think of something," he decided.

"I'm certain you shall," the Doctor mused. "Now, it's nearly midnight, and I know that you humans need a good night's sleep if you're going to have your wits about you tomorrow. Off to bed with you, then."

"Aye, goodnight, Doctor," Jamie said, stifling a yawn as he headed down the corridor.

"And mind that you brush your teeth first!" the Doctor called after him. He smirked at the annoyed mutter that followed. "I heard that!"

* * *

"I do _not_ want to hear it!" Tony insisted for the umpteenth time as he drove Carl back to the INS office.

"But, Tony, I'm telling you—there's a guy being controlled by Sutekh, and he's putting people into comas!"

"Carl…!" Tony began, but he shook his head and bit back whatever diatribe he had been planning. "Doesn't it get through that thick head of yours as to how close you came last night to getting into a coma yourself!?"

"So you believe me?" Carl asked.

"I believe that you're going to get yourself killed if you keep up with this!" Tony retorted. "If Rausch hadn't turned up when he did, you could've been…" He didn't finish the thought.

"With Rausch finding me, I just traded one problem for another," Carl grumbled, rubbing his still-sore wrists.

"You're just lucky that your buddy at the museum isn't pressing charges," Tony said. "You're also lucky that you were cleared of attacking that janitor. And you're also insanely lucky that getting arrested was the worst thing that happened to you last night! Do you understand me, Carl!?"

"Sure, sure…"

"No, you don't!" Tony fumed, driving into his parking space and throwing the car into park. "You're just going to get right back on this story the moment you get back upstairs, aren't you!?"

"Well…" Carl said, with a shrug. "It if makes you feel any better, I'm just going to make one innocent phone call. …Ah, you don't mind if it's to England?"

" _England_!" Tony exclaimed in disbelief. "Why the heck do you need to make a call to England!? We can't afford that!"

"…Okay, I'll go to my standby plan—the wonders of Skype," Carl said, without missing a beat. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Ignoring Tony's further protests, Carl headed to his desk, pulling up the contact information he had been looking at the previous day about Sarah Jane Smith. It took a bit of queries via email to get her to open up to the idea of Skyping, but the moment he mentioned Sutekh, she had immediately responded with her Skype ID. And they had gotten straight to business.

"You are certain that it was Sutekh who was mentioned?" the brown-haired woman queried.

"Sutekh—just like in that article you wrote, and he called himself an Osirian," Carl responded. "You mentioned something about someone named 'the Doctor' being able to stop him."

"I think the Doctor may be the only one who can stop him if he's truly back," Sarah Jane sighed, looking concerned. "But even then, I'm not certain—it took so much of his mental strength and trickery. Sutekh will be expecting it—and may strike him down the moment he gets a chance to."

"Look, I've got a lot of questions for you here," Carl said. "You said that this Sutekh is an alien. How the heck are we supposed to stop him?"

"There is nothing that we, as humans, can do to stop a creature with that much mental power," Sarah Jane insisted. "If you attempted to face him, he would take over your mind—or have his puppets kill you on the spot! I saw it happen with my own eyes!"

"…In 1911?" Carl asked, arching an eyebrow.

"As odd as it sounds, yes," she said, looking completely serious. "It's all because of the Doctor."

"You mention this Doctor guy a lot," Carl said. "What makes him so special that he can go toe to toe with this alien?"

"Because he's an alien, too," Sarah Jane replied. "He's a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey—he can travel anywhere in time and space, and I traveled with him for a while. It's how we ended up in 1911 and got mixed up in that affair."

Carl stared at his computer screen, blankly.

"You don't believe me?" she asked.

"Oh, I believe you," Carl said. "I've got to—Sutekh is running around now; if he's real, then the Doctor's gotta be real, too. And you say that he's the only one who can stand a chance against Sutekh?"

"He told me that the Osirians are stronger than his people," Sarah Jane recalled. "But based on what you told me, Sutekh hasn't regained all of his power just yet—in this weakened state, the Doctor might be able to hold his own against him. At any rate, he is our only hope; Sutekh will seek to destroy everything once he regains his full power!"

Carl swore, running a hand through his hair.

"So, call this Doctor up!" he exclaimed. "Tell him that Sutekh is running amok in Chicago and that we need his help!"

"…It's not that simple," Sarah Jane said, quietly. "There's no way of knowing where—or when—the Doctor is at any given moment."

"You don't know?"

"There's so much about him that I don't know," she said. "I don't even know his name—he often calls himself John Smith. He can be incredible elusive. Trying to find him in the space-time continuum is…"

"…Like trying to find a needle in an infinite haystack," Carl finished. "Great. Just great."

"One thing that I do know, though," Sarah Jane said. "His ship, the TARDIS… She does a good job of getting him where he needs to go. I would think—I would _hope_ —that he will find his way to Chicago on time."

"How will I know him when I see him?" Carl asked. "What does he look like?"

Sarah Jane hesitated.

"…You don't know!?" Carl exclaimed. "You traveled with the guy and you don't know what he looks like!? What, does he wear a mask or a hooded cape or—"

"He changes his appearance," Sarah Jane cut in. "His people—when they die, they get a new body; it's called 'regeneration.' I saw him do it—he'd died, right in front of me, looking like a tall, white-haired man. And then there was this golden glow all around him, and, before my eyes, he changed into curly-haired man with the widest eyes you'd ever seen. Some time later, I saw some of his other selves—a frail old man, a shabbily-dressed short man, a tall cricketer… A few years ago, I'd seen him again, in a different body—a scrawny young man. And the last time I saw him, he'd looked even younger, with a rather pronounced chin. There's no telling what he looks like now!"

"…Did you say a shabbily-dressed short man?" Carl asked.

"Yes. Have you seen someone like that?" Sarah Jane asked. "Wearing a stringy bow tie?"

"…That description does sound familiar," Carl mused. "I'm sure I've seen someone like that yesterday."

"Well, the good news is that if you did see him, then the Doctor is there," she said. "The bad news is that the version of the Doctor that's there hasn't met Sutekh yet; he has no idea of the danger in store. You simply must find him and warn him—and see what he can do about the problem!"

"All I can do is try," Carl said. "Any other clues you can give me?"

"Be on the lookout for the TARDIS," she said. "It's a blue wooden box—it looks like an old English police box."

"I _know_ I saw that yesterday!" Carl exclaimed. "I nearly crashed into that thing when it appeared out of nowhere in an alley!"

"Then it _is_ him!" Sarah Jane exclaimed. "I'm not sure where in his timeline he is, so he may or may not remember me, but you can mention me to him if you see him—it might help him understand that you mean to aid him."

"Great; thanks," Carl said. "Now I just hope I find him in time to give him the information he needs to know."

"Let me know how things are going," Sarah Jane insisted. "I might be able to fill him in on some details that he doesn't know yet."

"Right; I'll let you know," Carl said. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me until we're certain that Sutekh is no longer a threat," Sarah Jane replied, sagely. "Good luck."

With that, she ended the call. Carl was already on his feet, pausing as he noticed Tony watching from the doorway of his office.

"…You heard, huh?" Carl asked. "How much did you hear?"

"Something about an alien in a bow tie and Sutekh being too dangerous for you to handle," Tony replied. "I hope that convinced you to stay out of it!"

"Tony, I have to find the Doctor so that he can stop Sutekh," Carl replied. "After that, I'll stay out of it. …Well, maybe I'll stick around and watch—maybe get a few pictures for publication—"

"Carl, for crying out loud, can't you just—"

He was cut off by Carl's phone ringing.

"Hold that thought, Tony—this could be important!" he said, taking the call. "Kolchak here."

"Ah, hello, Mr. Kolchak?" a voice asked.

Carl froze; he recognized the voice—it was the same voice he had heard in the museum the previous night, when he had been startled by the person in the Egyptian exhibition, and then later when the voice had been discussing with that Scottish voice about what to do about the Osirians.

"…Who is this?" Carl asked.

"Ah, yes; we've never met," the voice said. "But I feel as though we're working towards the same goal. I'm Doctor John Smith."

Carl could only stare blankly ahead; it seemed that, through some extraordinary coincidence, he had found the alien Doctor that Sarah Jane had told him to find.


	5. The Great Pretender

"…Doctor John Smith, huh?" Carl asked, once he had found his voice. Idly, he wondered how the Doctor had managed to find him—assuming this was the right Doctor John Smith.

"Yes, that's right," the Doctor replied. "I understand that you are seeking to stop an Osirian named Sutekh—as am I."

"Yeah, I am, actually," Carl said, now convinced that this was the right Doctor Smith. "Can you tell me anything about him?"

"Well, I was rather hoping that you could tell me something; I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea of who he is or what he wants," the Doctor replied, sheepishly. "I do apologize if you were expecting me to be a font of information… But I'm afraid I'm at a loss—and it's most vexing to me."

"No, no; that's fine," Carl said, remembering what Sarah Jane had told him about the Doctor not knowing. "I'll tell you what I can."

"Oh, very nice. Now then, my hands are a little full right now, as it were, so I'll be sending my very good companion in my stead to meet with you—Mr. James McCrimmon…" The Doctor trailed off, and Carl distinctly heard him mutter, "Where _has_ he gotten to…? Oh, never mind. Mr. Kolchak, I'll let him know the moment I find him. Where would be the best place to meet?"

"Ah… Well, we could meet over a brunch," Carl offered. "There's a nice breakfast place uptown."

"Oh, yes, he will like that very much indeed—he loves to eat," the Doctor said, with a chuckle.

"Then it's settled," Carl said, giving him the address of the eatery. "I'll meet him there in half an hour."

"Yes!" the Doctor agreed. "Goodbye!"

Carl ended the call and looked to Tony.

"You know who that was?" he asked.

"Let me guess," Tony sighed. "It's that alien in the bow tie?"

"Pretty sure that it is," Carl said. "I just need to confirm it; I'll hopefully get the confirmation from that associate of his I'll be meeting—a James McCrimmon, he said his name was."

"McCrimmon?" Tony repeated. "Sounds like a Scottish name, doesn't it?"

Carl blinked, recalling the Scottish accent he had heard in the museum the previous night. Of course, that must have been him…

"Yeah, I guess so," he said. "Well, I can't sit around and talk about it, Tony; I have to go and meet this guy. We've got a lot of work to do in dealing with this—"

"Yeah, yeah; I know—this whole Sutekh business," Tony groaned. "Just… Be careful, Carl, huh? If you can leave it to this Doctor Smith guy, just let him deal with it. Don't put yourself in any danger, okay? These guys you're dealing with are dangerous. I don't want to hear…!"

He trailed off, not wanting to voice the thought of hearing from someone that Carl was in a coma—or dead. He'd had enough scares from some of Carl's previous stories—though he'd never admit it, of course.

"Don't worry, Tony," Carl said. "Contrary to what you may think sometimes, I actually do have some sense of self-preservation."

"Good—see that you use it!" Tony said.

"You don't mind my going after this story?"

"Of course I mind, but when does that influence your decision!?" Tony countered. "Just go and make sure you come back!"

"Sure, Tony, sure! I'll try to call in when I can!"

Tony just groaned in response as Carl headed out the door again.

* * *

Jamie gave a sigh as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror of the TARDIS wardrobe. He could barely recognize himself in the uncomfortable clothes he was now wearing. He could hear the Doctor calling for him, but he was more focused on his current appearance—and he wasn't particularly fond of it, either.

 _It has t' be done_ , he silently reminded himself. _I have t' meet with that famed beastie hunter. And he's been known t' go after aliens. I cannae let him know that the Doctor is an alien. And t' ensure that, I cannae let him know that I'm from the past. I have t' be modern, e'en if it means dressing like this_.

The piper was giving his kilt a longing glance as the Doctor entered the wardrobe, stopping in his tracks at the sight.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" the Doctor asked. "What are you doing in my wardrobe?"

Jamie quietly grumbled, remembering how the Doctor's people tended to identify others by their clothing, rather than their faces. After what had happened in the Land of Fiction, he could certainly never forget the Doctor's inability to remember faces.

"Doctor, it's me—Jamie!" he exclaimed.

"What? But you can't be…" The Doctor trailed off as Jamie grumpily held his kilt up at waist-level. "Oh my word; it _is_ you! So this is where you'd wandered off to! But… _what_ are you wearing!?"

"Well, last night, ye were saying that my tartan would give me away as being from the past, and that I'd have t' find some way of explaining that t' the beastie hunter. So I'm wearing future clothes so that he won' know that I'm from the past when we meet him," Jamie said, plainly. "I was looking around the shops this morning, and I found these hidden in the back of a consignment shop."

"…They were hidden in the back of the shop for a good reason," the Doctor said. "Oh, Jamie…"

He wordlessly looked the piper up and down, from the loudly colorful, squiggly designs on his trousers-which seemed more in-place on a bowling alley carpet than on trousers—to the white shirt that was splotched with splashes of electric yellow, hot pink, lime green, and neon orange. Capping everything off was a pair of lime green-rimmed sunglasses perched on top of Jamie's head.

The Doctor drew his handkerchief from his pocket, pretending to mop his brow, but really trying to hide the fact that he was close to laughing.

Jamie wasn't fooled.

"I got the same kind of clothes the future people in this magazine were wearing," he defended, waving the magazine. "This was in yer library."

The Doctor took the magazine from him, looking at the date that was on the cover before handing it back.

"Jamie…" the Doctor said, gently. "This magazine is from 1995. The year is currently 2015."

"Aye, so I was two decades off," Jamie said, waving a hand in dismissal. "I was born in 1724; it's still all the future to me. It's close enough, aye?"

"Jamie, I want you to open the TARDIS doors, look outside, and tell me if anyone else is wearing clothes like those."

"Do I have to?"

"No," the Doctor said. "Now that I think about it, you'd best get a move on before you're late with your meeting with Mr. Kolchak—or, as you call him, the beastie hunter." He paused, glancing at Jamie again. "But you probably should switch those trousers for something else before we go. Here…" He retrieved a pair of jeans. "Wear that, and the shirt and sunglasses will make you come across as just overly nostalgic for the 1990s, rather than as an anachronism."

Jamie stared disdainfully at the heavy denim jeans, dreading the thought of those around his legs, but eventually agreed. The Doctor left to let him change, but Jamie could distinctly hear him chuckling as he headed down the corridor.

Still, the piper couldn't be mad at him. At least there was the satisfaction of knowing that he had given the Doctor some much-needed amusement.

He emerged from the wardrobe in the jeans.

"How do people wear these!?" he demanded, walking bow-legged like an Old West cowboy. "These are nae trousers; these are leg prisons!"

The Doctor once again placed the handkerchief to his mouth.

"Jamie, I hate to break it to you, but if you want to look convincing, you'll have to walk normally—one foot in front of the other."

"That's a tall order," the piper insisted, as he struggled to do so.

"Well, I suppose you're as ready as you shall ever be," the Doctor said, handing him the list of questions, as well as the location of the meeting place. "Make sure you get the answers to all of those."

"Aye, I will."

And whatever you do, don't get into discussions about current events—you shan't have any idea about them."

"Och, I do have an idea," Jamie said, proudly. "I've been studying all aboot the 20th century thanks to this wee song!"

He handed his smartphone to the Doctor.

"'We Didn't Start the Fire?' Well I suppose you can learn a condensed version of history from that," the Doctor admitted. "But that song only covers history until 1989—how will you make up for 1990 through 2015?"

"If that happens, I shall just…" Jamie trailed off, paging through his magazine to find the right phrase. "I shall 'fake it til I make it.' Aye, that."

The Doctor suppressed another giggle.

"Good luck, Jamie," he said, at last. "Keep me informed of what's going on."

"Aye, I will," Jamie promised.

He waved as he departed the TARDIS, heading for the meeting place, ignoring the looks that he was getting from passersby on account of his loud, neon-colored shirt. And as he arrived at the restaurant and saw Carl there, he took note that the reporter also did a double-take at his appearance.

"…Are you James McCrimmon?" Carl asked.

"Aye, I am," Jamie replied. "Ye must be Carl Kolchak."

"Yes…" Carl said. "Well, ah, go on and sit down—you can go ahead and order something. And we can get to work. …First of all, I have to ask—that was you and Doctor Smith at the museum last night, wasn't it?"

"Aye—I think we gave ye a wee bit of a fright in the Egypt exhibit," Jamie said, with an apologetic smile. "Sorry aboot that."

"That's alright; I think I gave you guys a scare, too," Carl said. "I'm just curious as to how you two made it out without getting caught by Captain Rausch and his men after those Sutekh cultists got the heck out of Dodge."

"They werenae in Dodge; they were in the Hall of Gems," Jamie said, never having heard that expression before.

Carl blinked.

"Sure. But how did you and Doctor Smith get out of there?"

"Eh? Ah… We're affiliated with UNIT," Jamie said. "United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. We have passes and things to let us get access to places like that. So no one stopped us."

"That's definitely handy," Carl commented. "So, you've known Doctor Smith for… how long?"

"Aboot five years now."

"…He's not one of us, right?"

Jamie's heart skipped a beat.

"He's nae an American, if that's what ye mean," he said, at last. "But neither am I. I'm Scottish."

"I kinda figured that on my own," Carl said. "I mean that Doctor Smith isn't from Earth, right?" He stared as Jamie didn't answer. "Look, I need to find a Time Lord who goes by the name of Doctor Smith!"

"That's a verra common name," Jamie said, flatly, refusing to divulge the Doctor's identity for fear that Carl wanted to hunt him down for something related to Sutekh and the coven.

"Yeah, I know, but, since you've known him for that long, maybe you know…. Oh, never mind." Carl knew that Jamie didn't want to talk about it; if Doctor Smith had a reason for being incognito, he'd better not press the matter—for now, anyway. "So, what do you need to know about Sutekh?"

"Aye…" Jamie consulted the list of questions. "Have ye heard aboot Sutekh before? Have ye seen these men in the purple robes before? Have ye heard anything aboot their plans? Do ye know what they're after in the museum? Do ye know why they're putting people into comas? Do ye know anything aboot Sutekh or these people in the robes? Do ye know anything aboot-"

"One at a time!" Carl exclaimed. "No, I'd never heard of Sutekh or seen these guys before yesterday, and I don't know why they're putting people in comas or what they want in the museum. I heard that Sutekh was from a race of aliens that were seen by the ancient Egyptians as gods, so I thought that they were going to turn up at the Egyptian exhibit. I guess you and Doctor Smith also thought the same thing."

"Aye, but we were wrong in the end. They turned up in the Hall of Gems instead," Jamie said.

"And based on that, I think there's something in the Hall of Gems they're after," Carl said. "But somehow, I doubt that they're just there to steal jewelry. They keep talking about the full moon, and something needing to be done in time."

Jamie blinked.

"Aye, really?" he asked. "They _do_ sound like witches… Moonlit rituals and all those sorts of things…"

"You believe in witches?" Carl asked, surprised to hear that. He knew how often he was scoffed at for his stories on the supernatural, and finding someone who so readily believed in it was unexpected.

"Oh, aye!" the Scot exclaimed. "My papa warned me aboot this old hag in our village; he was certain she was a witch…" He trailed off, remembering not to reveal too much about his past.

"Well, I don't know about witches, but Sutekh is definitely getting these people to work for him," Carl said. "And I have a feeling that Sutekh is getting impatient—he's going to go back to the museum tonight."

"Aye, then we should be there," Jamie said. "We'll have t' stop them this time—we cannae let them steal whate'er it is they want to steal."

"That may be easier said than done. I guess we'll meet there tonight? After closing time?"

"Aye, but I don' know if the Doctor can be there," Jamie said, still wanting the Doctor to keep his distance from Carl. "I will be, there, though. Maybe I can be of help when Sutekh and his coven come back."

"I'll have to go along with that," Carl said. "But, ah, I really need to know if this Doctor Smith is the Doctor Smith I'm looking for. Has he ever mentioned a TARDIS or a police box? Or a place called Gallifrey?"

Jamie paled.

"I don' know what ye're talking aboot!" he lied. "Look, this is nae important right now—we have t' stop Sutekh. I'll tell the Doctor aboot what ye said—see ye tonight at the museum—ootside the Hall of Gems!"

He threw the necessary money on the table, picked up his food, and left with a quick wave.

"Wait!" Carl exclaimed. "I really need to know…!"

He trailed off as Jamie quickly ran out of earshot; Carl considered following him, but the waiter was waiting expectantly for him to pay his half of the money.

The reporter sighed, sitting back down. He hadn't even had the chance to ask about Sarah Jane or deliver the warning about Sutekh wanting revenge for something that the Doctor's future self would do.

"What the heck is he so nervous about?" Carl wondered.

He'd have to figure that out later why that Scottish kid didn't want to reveal that the Doctor was an alien; the main focus was on figuring out what Sutekh wanted from the Hall of Gems and stopping him from getting it.

And, hopefully, he could deliver the warning to the Doctor before it was too late for them. After all, if Sarah Jane was right and the Doctor was the only one who had a chance against Sutekh, then it was imperative that Sutekh didn't eliminate him before he had a chance to fight back.


	6. Truths and Lies

_Notes: the Doctor Who Legacy game describes the First Doctor's signet ring as a wearable sonic device, so I've adapted that into my fic timeline, as well_.

* * *

Carl was still frustrated at not having any concrete proof that he was dealing with the Doctor John Smith that Sarah Jane had spoken of. And though Tony had been determined to stay out of this entire ordeal, he did take note of Carl's expression as he returned to the INS office.

"Meeting didn't go well, huh?" he asked.

"Could've gone better, yeah," Carl agreed. "I'm 90 percent sure that this is the right Doctor Smith I'm dealing with, but that Scottish kid doesn't want to admit that the Doctor is an alien for some reason. Until I can get a confirmation, I could be talking to the wrong guy—even if that's unlikely at this point."

"You know, you could always just forget the whole thing," Tony said. "In fact, I'd prefer it."

"Tony, I can't! Sutekh and his cult are planning something for tonight—they'll have to be! And I've gotta be there!"

"Carl, no…" Tony groaned.

"It'll be fine; that Scottish kid has a pass from the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, and I'll be with him!"

"Why would that kid have a pass from a UN taskforce!?" Tony asked in disbelief. "Carl, he couldn't have been serious!"

"Look, we can verify it!" Carl said, waving Tony over to his computer. He did a bit of poking around on the internet as Tony looked over his shoulder.

"Should you be going into a UN taskforce website?" Tony inquired, as Carl began to get past some encrypted pages to get to some files.

"Desperate times, Tony—desperate times…" Carl said, unconcerned. "Aha! Here we are; look at this file—'James Robert McCrimmon, Affiliated Civilian.' He was telling the truth! Let's see, 'Place of birth: Inverness, Scotland. Date of birth: 22 September, 1724…' Wait, _what_?"

"Must be a typo," Tony said, with a shrug.

"No… No, it's not! Tony, listen to this—'Highland piper and veteran of the 1746 Battle of Culloden, McCrimmon evaded persecution by escaping his time period with the aid of the second incarnation of Doctor John Smith. Since then, he has traveled alongside the Doctor, often aiding UNIT with various occurrences.' Tony, this kid is from the 1740s!"

"Carl, that isn't possible!"

"It is when he's traveling with an alien that can traverse the space-time continuum!" Carl countered.

"Carl, do you really believe that there's an alien in a bow tie running around Chicago with a runaway kid from the 18th century!?" Tony asked.

Carl gestured towards the computer screen.

"This is a UN database!" he said. "Would _they_ make it up!?"

"And I suppose they have information on this bow-tie wearing alien you're trying to find?" Tony asked.

Carl responded by searching for Doctor John Smith in the files.

"There you go," Carl said. He blinked as the file provided multiple photographs; on the Scot's, there had been only one, but here, there were thirteen—and all of them different.

"Those aren't aliens!" Tony exclaimed. "They're people-like us!"

"'Though humanoid in appearance, the Doctor exhibits internal anatomy unlike anything seen before in the history of Earth medicine,'" Carl read, prompting Tony to roll his eyes. "'The most striking of these features are a binary vascular system of two hearts, and the presence of tapetum lucidum in the eyes that reflects a red eyeshine when exposed to lights at night…'" Carl trailed off. "Those must've been the red eyes I saw last night! Tony, it's him—the right one! …Now I just gotta let that Highlander kid know that he needs to get the information on Sutekh to the Doctor."

"If you can convince him you're telling the truth," Tony said, flatly. "You don't exactly have the gift of persuasion. And I'm still not sold on all of this, even with your prodding into these files!"

Carl gave him a look.

"Don't you have work to do, Tony?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Tony said, moving to leave, but then, he paused. "Why do they give thirteen different pictures for this guy?"

"They're _all_ him, Tony."

"Huh. Must have one heck of a plastic surgeon…"

"No, no; Sarah Jane said… You know what? Never mind—just forget it. You don't want to know."

"…You're probably right," Tony agreed, retreating to his office.

Carl sat back in his chair and continued to peruse the UNIT file on the Doctor, looking at the thirteen different photographs. He recognized some of them from Sarah Jane's description—the tall, gray-haired man and the one with the wide eyes, as well as the younger ones. And there—there was the shabbily-dressed one with the bow tie. Yes, that definitely did look like the man he had seen speaking to Rausch the previous morning.

With not much else to do other than read up more on Gallifreyan biology until the museum closed, that was exactly what Carl decided to do.

* * *

"You know, Jamie, I do appreciate your efforts in looking out for me," the Doctor said, as he dropped Jamie off at the museum. "But I'm starting to feel that you are getting paranoid about Mr. Kolchak."

"But he knows, Doctor!" Jamie exclaimed. "He knows ye're an alien—I did my best t' deny that I knew anything, but I don' think he believes it!"

"And because of that, you don't want me with you when you go in there?"

"Aye—it makes sense."

"Not entirely. Jamie, I'm worried about you, too. These are dangerous people we're dealing with. If you were put into a coma like the others, well…" The Doctor gripped Jamie's shoulder tightly. "I don't know what I would do."

"I'll be careful," Jamie promised. He smirked. "Don' worry; I know ye're helpless withoot me."

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far!" the Doctor scoffed. "Oh, and that reminds me—I want you to wear this ring…"

Jamie blinked as the Doctor held out a blue crystal ring.

"What's this?"

"Well, it's my old signet ring," the Doctor said. "I wore it all the time before I regenerated into this body. It has sonic capabilities, just like my screwdriver—only it's more convenient since you can wear it."

"Then why'd ye stop wearing it?" Jamie asked.

"Well, it didn't fit me anymore after I changed," the Doctor said, demonstrating by attempting to wear the ring and having it fall off. "Ben gave me a bit of a difficult time because he thought it was a sign that I wasn't really me."

"Och, that Sassenach gave ye trouble at first, too?" Jamie mused. "I ne'er did fully forgive him for trying t' convince me that a photograph was a form of witchcraft…"

"Yes, well, we can reminisce about our early adventures later; in the meantime, I think this will fit you very nicely," the Doctor said, handing the ring to Jamie. His expression softened. "Off you go, then. Good luck."

Jamie nodded and, after placing it around his finger, used the sonic signet ring to unlock the side door and deactivate the cameras and security system to allow him entry into the building unseen. By himself now, the Doctor sighed and wandered off

There was nothing for him to do but wait for Jamie to call him, so the Doctor paused at the nearest tavern and sat down at the bar. There was only one spot open—the barstool at the end, next to a big man drinking a glass of milk. This didn't bother the Doctor, who was already preoccupied thinking about Jamie; he ordered an ale.

"I don't suppose you sell drinks by the bottle, do you?" he asked the bartender. "I have a Scottish friend who would appreciate a nice bottle of whiskey, but he's busy right now and can't make it here."

This prompted the milk-drinking man to give him a sideways glance—and his gaze was fixed for a moment on the Doctor's bow tie.

"Oh, hello," the Doctor said, looking up at the big man with a grin. "Do you like this tie? I think it's very nice—it's why I chose it."

"Oh, no…" the man groaned, downing the rest of the milk in one gulp. "Lemme guess—you're Doctor John Smith?"

"…Yes, that's right," the Doctor said, with an air of surprise. "You have the advantage over me, I'm afraid. I don't believe I know you—yet."

"Yet?"

"Er, yes. My life isn't as straightforward as others' are…" the Doctor said. "I know that sounds odd. What did you say your name was?"

"Tony Vincenzo," the big man said, holding a hand out.

"A pleasure, Mr. Vincenzo," the Doctor said, taking his hand.

Tony took a look at the Doctor's hand as they shook hands, silently expecting it be different somehow. The Doctor sensed this with his touch-telepathy, and arched an eyebrow in surprise.

"I somehow feel that you have heard of me before, but expected someone different," the Doctor said.

"Yeah, yeah, I kinda did," Tony admitted. "Are you, ah… Are you really…?" He trailed off and shook his head, unable to bring himself to ask if the man he was speaking to was really an alien. "Oh, forget it."

The Doctor shrugged and continued to drink his ale, thinking once again about Jamie, and hoping he was alright.

* * *

Jamie, in the meantime, had caught up with Carl under the _T. rex_.

"How did you get in here?" Carl queried. "You don't have a key, and how did you slip past the security system?"

"Och, UNIT ways," Jamie said, waving a hand in dismissal.

"Uh-huh," Carl said. "Now, about Doctor Smith…"

"What aboot him?" Jamie asked.

"Look, Kid, you can drop the act—I already know about him. You don't have to hide anything—I want to help him. He needs to know that Sutekh has it in for him—in some other time and place, he was responsible for Sutekh's death, and now Sutekh is out for revenge against him!"

Jamie stared at him for a moment.

"I don' know what you're talking aboot."

Carl gritted his teeth in frustration.

"I'm trying to _help_ ," he insisted. "I know about you, too—you fought in the Battle of Culloden, right?"

"Och, ye're talking nonsense!" Jamie yelped, his voice jumping an octave. "How can I have fought in a war that long ago and still be standing here?"

"Time travel," Carl replied, plainly.

Jamie stubbornly shook his head.

"Ye're mistaken. Look, we can talk aboot all this later; we need t' get t' the Hall of Gems. Those coven members will be there soon."

"Right," Carl said, shaking his head in exasperation. Pressing this matter was not going to work, and he'd have to try another tactic. "You hide behind that door that you were hiding behind last night; I'll hide behind the other one."

"Aye," Jamie nodded, and he sighed in relief as they headed for the Hall of Gems. Perhaps he could slip away before Carl could question him again…

His relief was short-lived, though; as they approached the hall, they could hear the voices of people inside again—they had already found their way inside.

"This time, there will be no mistakes!" Sutekh demanded. "Time is running out; we have much to do tonight, and I will not wait! You will find those gems, and you will find them within the hour, or you will all suffer the same fate as those who outlive their usefulness! Sutekh the Destroyer has no patience for incompetents!"

"We're going as fast as we can," the head cultist said.

"See that you do," Sutekh hissed. "I am not the only Osirian who needs to be revived—I have told you—"

"Yes, Lord Sutekh," the female cultist said. "You have told us already that we must begin arrangements for the rituals to bring back your son, Anubis, and his wife, Anput. Preparations are being made."

"Anput's revival requires more than three gems," Sutekh reminded her. "She requires the additional energy of fifty souls."

"We've got dozen ready and waiting for you," the lead cultist reminded him. "The coma patients won't be any trouble at all to round up."

"Good," Sutekh said. "And I know where to get another thirteen souls. That Time Lord who dared to humiliate me… the Doctor… Though he is but one man, within him rests thirteen souls! He shall be a sacrifice for Anput—all thirteen of his souls!"

Jamie let out a shrill gasp—and then covered his mouth in horror as he realized that he had just betrayed his presence.

"What was that!?" the female cultist demanded, turning towards the door.

"Run, Kid, run!" Carl ordered, already fleeing.

Jamie followed suit, and he could hear some of the cultists pursuing them. Seeing Carl go one way, Jamie darted in another direction, ending up in the Egyptian exhibit. He hid behind a pillar as he heard a set of footsteps following him.

The cultist was visible in the dim light, and from the silhouette, Jamie could discern that it was a feminine figure.

 _Just one of the coven followed me? And it's only a lassie_ , he thought, getting complacent.

Convinced that the female cultist was not a threat, Jamie moved to dart past her; she heard him coming and grabbed his wrist. Jamie grabbed her other wrist, but soon let out a cry as she flipped him over her shoulder.

She then followed up with a sharp blow to his shoulders; the piper fell to the floor, unconscious.


	7. Regroup

_Notes: Much like_ Doctor Who _,_ Kolchak: the Night Stalker _has a vast expanded universe. The details in this chapter regarding Tony's son are from the EU_.

* * *

The female cultist stared down at the fallen Scot with a satisfied smirk.

"Well, look at you," she said. "Such a strong specimen—even if completely dense. Oh, I think Lord Sutekh would _love_ to have you as his next host…"

She suddenly shrieked as a bright light was held up in front of her eyes.

"Not today, Lady!" a voice snarled. "Get outta here! Get going!"

Blinded by the light, the cultist shielded her eyes, retreating—bumping into the column on her way out.

Carl sighed as he lowered the flashlight he was holding. He had to get Jamie away from here as soon as possible—she'd be coming back, with all of those cultists and Sutekh as reinforcements, most likely.

What they needed right now was that TARDIS Sarah Jane had mentioned—something that could move in and out of here quickly. But how…?

It was as he was lifting Jamie up that Carl found the answer to the conundrum—a smartphone was sticking out of Jamie's pocket. He took it out, pausing for a moment at the lockscreen.

"Okay…" he sighed. "If I was an 18th-century Scotsman, what would I use as my passcode?" He bit his lip, recalling the date of birth he had read on Jamie's UNIT profile. "Birth year? Let's try it…"

He typed in 1-7-2-4, and let out a triumphant chuckle as the phone unlocked. He then quickly opened up the contacts list; the Doctor was at the top of the rather small list. Not bothering to wonder who the few other names were, Carl quickly called the Doctor.

And, back at the pub, the Doctor had just finished his ale when he heard the TARDIS's phone ringing outside. Passersby were stopping to stare at the TARDIS, wondering whether they should take the phone.

"That blue phone booth is ringing," Tony said, staring at it though the glass door of the bar.

"So she is. That's for me, I'm afraid; would you excuse me, please?" the Doctor asked, hopping off of the barstool after paying for the ale.

Half-wondering if this was really happening, Tony paid for his milk and followed the Doctor outside, staring as the little man opened the front panel of the police box to reveal a phone, and took the call.

"Yes, Jamie, what is it?" he asked.

"Ah, this isn't Jamie," Carl said. "This is Carl Kolchak; your friend got knocked out by one of Sutekh's cultists—"

"Jamie… Is he alright?" the Doctor asked, a look of panic and worry crossing his face.

"He oughta be; he's not in a coma, if that's what's worrying you," Carl said. "But those cultists will be back here any second, and they might put him in one. Can you get us out of here?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll be there as quickly as I can!"

"No pressure or anything—but _hurry_!" Carl added.

The Doctor, still looking worried and out of it, placed the phone back as the crowd now dissipated; only Tony remained. He knew that look on the Doctor's face all too well.

"Was that Carl on the phone? Your friend's in trouble at the museum, isn't he?" he deduced. "You need a ride there?"

"I… no; I know a quicker way to get there, but thanks all the same," the Doctor said, now proceeding to unlock the police box.

"Look, I can get you a cab…" Tony trailed off as the doors of the police box opened to reveal the spacious console room inside. "What the…!?" He quickly darted around the box, as though confirming its size, and then stared at the console room again.

"You said you know Carl Kolchak?" the Doctor asked. "I might be needing your help in this. Could you step inside, please?"

"You… you really are…" Tony began, pointing upwards as he walked in. "You're from _out there_!? Hey…!" The big man sputtered as the doors swung shut behind him.

"She doesn't do so well on short trips, I'm afraid, but I'm going to ask this of her all the same; I suggest you hold on to something," the Doctor said, as he threw a lever on the console.

Tony grabbed a nearby chair as the entire room shook.

"This shouldn't be here!" he exclaimed pointing to the chair. "This whole room shouldn't be in here! I saw how big that phone booth was! You mean to tell me you fit this whole room in here!?"

"She's dimensionally transcendent," the Doctor said, as the central column on the console rose and fell. "You'll find there's quite a lot than just this one room in here. The Old Girl is rather like a castle."

Tony just stood there, holding onto the chair with one hand while holding his other arm out in a helpless shrug as he looked around the console room. The shaking suddenly stopped, as did the central column's rise and fall.

"We're here," the Doctor said, opening the doors. "Oh, my word! _Jamie_!"

Carl now stood aside as the Doctor darted outside, gathering the Scot in his arms and bringing him into the console room. Seeing Tony already inside the TARDIS, Carl now followed the Doctor inside, giving his employer a look.

"Well, Tony, what do you think?" Carl asked.

Tony gave Carl a stare.

"I think I should've gotten into the flower-selling business—I really do," he said. He shook his head, and then seemed to snap out of it. "Hey, is the kid alright?"

"I believe so, thanks to Mr. Kolchak's timely thinking," the Doctor said, holding a bottle of smelling salts under Jamie's nose.

The piper coughed as he revived, much to the Doctor's relief.

"Jamie! Oh, you little fool!" the Time Lord chided, drawing him into an embrace. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"

"Aye, I'll find other ways t' scare ye," Jamie said, with a wan smile. "Och, I cannae believe I let myself get a thrashing by a _lassie_."

"I'm far too relieved to give you the 'you're not in the 1700s anymore' lecture right now, Jamie," the Doctor said. "But rest assured, we will be having that conversation later."

"Again?"

"You clearly haven't learned!"

"I'd say he's had some sense knocked into him," Carl intoned, prompting Jamie to yelp in fright.

"Doctor!" he exclaimed. "He's here, in the TARDIS!"

"Jamie…"

"He knows aboot the TARDIS and that ye're an alien!"

"Yes, and it was a lucky thing for you that he did!" the Doctor said, but he sighed as Jamie scrambled to his feet, putting himself between the Doctor and Carl.

"I won' let ye kill him!" Jamie vowed, staring down the reporter.

"Kid, he's the Earth's last hope," Carl said. "Killing him is the last thing I would ever do. What makes you think I would!?"

"That's what ye do," Jamie said, plainly. "Ye're a beastie hunter—I've heard all aboot ye. Ye've gone after the undead and monsters—and aliens!"

"Well, that explains a lot," Carl said. "But you might as well know that I found out about the Doctor from a lady named Sarah Jane Smith."

Jamie looked puzzle, but the Doctor snapped his fingers.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "I met her in the Tomb of Rassilon!"

"Among other places," Carl said. "She told me all about Sutekh; apparently, she was with you when you killed him. Or tricked him to this death, as she put it. Anyway, Sutekh wants revenge on you for what you did—or going to do, I suppose."

"I see…" the Doctor said.

"Well, I _don't_ see!" Tony blurted out. "How can he be haunted by a ghost of an Egyptian God he hasn't killed yet!?"

"Time travel, Tony—I told you!" Carl said. "Remember? That's how this kid from the 1740s is here now?"

"Ye knew aboot me, then?" Jamie said.

"Yeah, that's right," Carl said.

"Then I wore these stupid leg prisons for nothing!" the piper fumed. "I probably could've fought off that lassie if I hadnae been wearing these…"

He stormed off towards the corridor leading deeper into the TARDIS.

"Jamie?" the Doctor called. "Where are you going?"

"T' put my kilt back on!" Jamie called over his shoulder. "This disguise is useless now!"

The Doctor sighed again as Jamie disappeared down the corridor, suddenly looking much more weary and relieved. He turned back to Carl with a grateful look in his eyes.

"Thank you ever so much," he said, sincerely. "Jamie is all I have right now, you see. If I'd have lost him…"

"Don't mention it," Carl said, not used to such gratitude. "I'm just glad I got there in time to help him. He's a good kid."

"Yeah, but good kids often end up in the worst kind of trouble, and before you know it, it's too late to do a darn thing about it," Tony said, bitterly.

Carl's shoulders slumped; he knew Tony was referring to his dead son. The Doctor had no way of knowing, but he suspected it as he began to put the pieces together—Tony's immediately insistence on helping him out had been because he had recognized the panicked, worried look on the Doctor's face as the kind he'd had the night he had received that awful phone call.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly.

Tony gave the Doctor a look.

"You're really an alien?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And this is really a time machine?"

"Yes, she is… But if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do," the Doctor said, apologetically. "To change time like that—changing the fate of someone who is already dead—that would create a destructive paradox. And I fear that is what Sutekh has in store—for me and for all of us."

"He wants t' sacrifice yer souls and make the paradox that way!" Jamie said, returning now in his jumper and kilt.

"My… Oh, my regenerations? Yes, I suppose you could consider each one a soul… My previous self lives on the deep recesses of my mind; the others haven't manifested themselves yet, but the regeneration energy that will eventually become them is still within me."

"And if Sutekh sacrifices them, it'll create a paradox," Carl finished. "Since it was one of your future selves who stopped him."

"That's quite right," the Doctor said. "And though I'm not overly fond of them, my future selves are still me and have things that need to be done. We must save them—and, indeed, the entire space-time continuum…"

There was a commotion outside.

"It's them!" Carl exclaimed. "The cultists! They're probably trying to find the kid!"

"They shan't have him!" the Doctor said, closing the TARDIS doors. He was heading for the dematerialization switch when he suddenly stopped, staring at the console as it went haywire.

"Doctor!?" Jamie asked, rushing to his side. "Doctor, what is it!?"

"It's him…!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Sutekh! He's trying to override the TARDIS's telepathic circuits!"

" _Doctor_!" a voice hissed.

The piper yelled, clinging to the Doctor as the apparition of a jackal-headed being appeared above the console.

"What the heck is that!?" Tony asked.

"That's Sutekh, Tony—his true form!" Carl replied.

" _So_ …" Sutekh hissed. " _We meet again, Time Lord_!"

"From your point of view, perhaps," the Doctor said, sounding a lot braver than he felt.

" _It matters not_ ," Sutekh replied. " _Soon, you will know nothing—nothing but the destruction that I will wreak. Your human friends may have distracted my playthings temporarily, but they have retrieved the keys I need to break free from this prison of Duat. And you will witness the destruction of your planet, and the enslavement of this one before your souls are sacrified_!"

"And then you'll offer me and my other selves up as a sacrifice, is that it?" the Doctor finished. "You have this all planned out, haven't you?"

" _You seem to harbor some hopes of stopping me_ ," Sutekh observed. " _You are weak—nothing compared to my mental strength. Just as your other self, you, too, will be nothing more than a plaything of Sutekh_!"

"He may have been a plaything, but he still succeeded in stopping y—oh!" the Doctor suddenly clutched at his head, sinking to his knees.

"Doctor!" Jamie cried. "Doctor, what is it!? What's happening!?"

"I think Sutekh is messing with his head!" Carl exclaimed.

"Can't you stop him?" Tony asked.

"I don't know!" Carl replied. "Kid, can't we get outta here or something!? Away from that thing!?"

Jamie tore himself away from the Doctor's side long enough to throw the dematerialization switch. As the central column rose and fell again, the apparition of Sutekh vanished, his telepathic control broken by their retreat.

The Doctor exhaled, still on his knees, looking quite shocked and stunned at what had just transpired.

"Are ye alright, Doctor?" Jamie asked, returning to his side.

"I… I believe so, Jamie, for the moment," he said, returning the security cling. "But… I'm afraid we're all in very great danger."


	8. Catch Your Breath

Both Carl and Tony were more than concerned with what had just transpired in the TARDIS only moments ago as the Doctor now shook off the mental cobwebs and regained control of the TARDIS.

"Carl…" Tony was saying. "That… thing that had the hologram in here… Was that really…?"

"Sutekh? Yeah, it was," Carl sighed. "And that wasn't really a hologram."

"Quite right, it was a mental projection," the Doctor said. "His mental powers are far stronger than I anticipated. More than that, it appears that his power is actually limited now due to his confinement."

"Confinement?" Tony asked.

"You mean in the afterlife?" Carl asked.

"Whatever you want to call it; there are many names for it," the Doctor said. "The ancient Egyptians called it _Duat_ ; I've also heard it referred to as the Nethersphere, the Other Side… take your pick."

"But if Sutekh's power is limited… and yet he is stronger than ye thought," Jamie began. "Och, that means that if the coven sets him free from the world of the afterlide, ye willnae be able to stop him!"

"And if the Doc can't stop Sutekh, we're done for," Carl finished. "Sarah Jane was pretty clear that the Doc's our last hope."

"Doctor, if you please," the Time Lord responded. "Now, then; we've escaped Sutekh and his servants for now, but I'm afraid it was at the cost of them getting whatever it was they wanted from the museum."

Jamie went red.

"It's my fault," he mumbled. "If I hadnae made the noise, they ne'er would have found me, and we could have stopped them."

"Actually, I don't think so," Carl said. "If Sutekh really is as powerful as Sarah Jane said, we'd have just as easily been brainwashed if we had tried anything—or put into a coma. Or worse." He hadn't mentioned that the female cultist had been planning to bring Jamie to Sutekh to use as a new host body, and decided that perhaps it was best not to bring that up at all. "We wouldn't have been able to stop them anyway."

"Then… it really is all up to the Doc? I mean, Doctor?" Tony finished.

"Looks that way," Carl replied.

"Well, that's it, then, isn't it? There's nothing you or I can do about it, right?" Tony asked. "Hey, Doctor, can you take us back to our office? The INS?"

"Tony!" Carl chided.

But the Doctor didn't seem to mind at all.

"Certainly; do you know the coordinates?" he asked.

"Eh… Not latitude and longitude, but I can tell you the street address," Tony said, ignoring Carl's expression.

"That will do nicely," the Doctor said.

Carl was now repeatedly poking Tony on the shoulder as Tony ignored him and gave the address of the INS. Soon, the TARDIS materialized beside Tony's desk; the editor looked satisfied as the TARDIS doors opened.

"That's really great, Doctor," Tony said. "Thanks for everything."

"So that's it!?" Carl exclaimed, his arms raised in an exasperated shrug. "You're walking out on him, Tony!?"

"Carl, you said it yourself—there's nothing we can do!"

"We can help!" Carl responded. "We can help him find out how to stop Sutekh from crossing back to this side—if we can do that, then the world will be saved!"

"Carl, I'm an editor. You are a reporter. We are supposed to report the news, not… save the world!" Tony retorted. "I keep telling you and telling you not to get involved in these kinds of things—"

He was cut off as the phone on his desk began to ring. Frustrated, Tony strode over to the desk and answered it.

"Hello!?" he barked, a bit harsher than he intended. "You're who? Kate Stewart? I don't know any Kate Stewart! …UNIT? You… want to know why someone from this IP address accessed your confidential files?"

Carl looked away, sheepishly as Tony glared at him.

" _Kolchak_!"

"Oh, I can handle this," the Doctor said, with a wave of his hand. He took the receiver from Tony. "Hello? Yes, this is the Doctor. I can assure you that anything these gentlemen were doing was to aid me in my quest against Sutekh—if you ask Ms. Sarah Jane Smith about him, she'll bring you up to date. …Yes, that's right; I'm the second one! Oh, so _you're_ little Kate! Yes, your father and I go way back—the Yeti invasion in the London Underground, to be exact." He covered the mouthpiece of the receiver for a moment and turned to Jamie, who was leaning out of the TARDIS. "Jamie, it's the Brigadier's daughter!"

"Doctor, what aboot Sutekh?" Jamie reminded him.

"Oh. Oh yes, of course…" He turned his attention back to the phone call. "I'm so sorry, Kate, but I really must get back to dealing with this. What's that? No, I don't think I shall need a UNIT squadron; I doubt they'd be of much use, considering what we're up again. Yes, your father always wished there was some sort of menace he could just shoot, but it rarely is that simple… Yes, of course, I'll fill you in on exactly what happens—if not me, then remind one of my other selves to do so. Yes, take care." He sighed as he placed the phone back on the cradle. "Well, it's all settled; UNIT won't press you for the look into their files—but mind that it doesn't happen again."

"Don't worry; it won't," Carl promised. "But say, Tony, it looks as though the Doctor got us out of a jam. Don't you think we owe him one?"

"Carl, please…" Tony said, wincing. "I don't want to deal with any Egyptian gods or whatever it is that's out there. It's already been made very clear that there's nothing I can do about it!"

Carl was struggling to come up with a retort, but couldn't.

"Well, what about the kid!?" he said at last, indicating Jamie. "You think he's in any better position to deal with Sutekh!? Of course not! But he's not running out on the Doctor, now is he!?"

"Sutekh would have t' kill me first," Jamie vowed. "The Doctor's people tried t' get me t' leave the Doctor by wiping my memories, but I still came back and got my memories restored. Only my death will get me t' leave again."

"Okay, so maybe you don't have to be _that_ committed," Carl said. "But at least help the guy out, Tony!"

"I cannot help but notice that helping me seems to be a point of contention between the two of you," the Doctor said, wryly. "I bear no ill feelings if you do not wish to get involved. This is a dangerous affair; I'm not denying that. Though I am used to this sort of thing, I understand if those who are not would prefer to sit this out. Rest assured that I shall do my best to stop Sutekh."

"But there would have to be something we could do, right?" Carl asked. "I mean, even if we can't stand up to him mentally…"

"Oh, of course—you said it yourself a moment ago," the Doctor said. "There is much research to be done about that was taken from the Hall of Gems, and how Sutekh plans to use that to return. And, of course, if we find out how he's going to use those gems, it could allow us to find out how to stop him."

"That's hardly rocket science," Carl said to Tony. "Even someone like you could handle it!"

"Carl, I don't care what it is," Tony said. "There are certain things that you just aren't supposed to get involved with, and this is one of them! If something goes wrong, Sutekh's going to take it out on whoever was interfering with him. I don't think I want to risk that, and I don't think you should risk it either. I'm going to stay out of this, and I really think you ought to do the same!"

The reporter glared back at his editor for a moment before sighing in defeat. At least now he seemed to have moved on from denying that the supernatural was happening. But his stance on dealing with it—or rather, not dealing with it—was exactly the same, and not about to change anytime soon.

"Alright, go on home, Tony!" he said at last. "Go bury your head in the sand like you always do! But don't you go telling me what I can and can't do; I'm sticking with the Doctor! You can fire me if you want to, but my decision is final!"

Tony looked back at Carl; the Doctor nonchalantly twiddled his thumbs, pretending that he wasn't the source of the trouble. Jamie watched, curious as to what was going to happen now with the two newsmen.

Carl now turned away, looking back to the Doctor.

"So where exactly do we go to find out about Sutekh's gems and revival?" he asked. "I don't think the libraries here in Chicago are that specialized—and we can't exactly wait around for an interlibrary loan."

"The TARDIS library is vast enough," the Doctor said, proudly. "If there's any information to be found, it will be there."

"Then let's get going," Carl said, following Jamie and the Doctor back inside the TARDIS.

Tony hesitated as they went inside.

"Carl…!" he exclaimed.

"See you around, Tony," Carl threw over his shoulder. "I'll keep you informed if I get a chance to."

Tony let out a long, exasperated sigh before following the others inside the TARDIS, shaking his head.

"Tony?" Carl asked surprised.

"I thought ye just said that ye were leaving," Jamie said, innocently.

"Yeah, I said that," Tony said to Jamie. "But I know this idiot is going to run headlong into trouble, and I'm not going to sit around waiting for news while he goes and gets himself killed!"

Carl suppressed a smirk as they headed to the library; Jamie looked at the Doctor in slight confusion, and the Time Lord responded with a knowing smile. At any rate, there was work to be done.


	9. Of Osirians and Medallions

_Notes: the initial concept of the medallions and the Pharaoh's traitorous adviser mentioned in this chapter is the creation of LuckyLadybug, who let me play with her timeline (for which I am grateful); the reference to the New York detectives smashing one of the medallions is a reference to her_ Carmen Sandiego _fic, "Walk Like an Egyptian." The references to the other smashed medallions are to my expansions and explorations—_ _a_ Hogan's Heroes _fic called "A Soldier of Fortune," and a_ Monkees _fic called "Manchester Jones and the Golden Curse," available on this site._

 _Also, as for the plot point involving an emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire being required to open a mystic doorway… that was lovingly borrowed and modified from_ The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time _, which I was most likely playing at the time I was outlining this fic_.

* * *

The four soon were in the TARDIS library, pouring over volumes of books on ancient Egypt.

"I don't know what's more impressive…" Tony mused. "That you've got so many books, or that they're actually all in order." He had been expecting a disorganized mess, and had been relieved to find out that there was order to the arrangement.

"Thank you; I do my best to look after my collection," the Doctor said, with a grin. He was not at all surprised by Tony's change of heart in regards to helping out; in fact, he had almost been expecting it.

"Hey, and I think I just hit the jackpot!" Carl exclaimed, pulling a book off of one of the shelves.

"Oh yes?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah— _Egyptian Gods, Aliens, and Medallions: the Legends of a Turncoat Courtier_ , by Bernice Summerfield and River Song."

The Doctor frowned.

"Odd. I don't remember that book ever being in the library…"

"Well, there's a note on it—but it's in a language I don't understand," Carl said, handing him the note.

"Oh, my word! It's from my brother! He must have slipped this book in the TARDIS that time Jamie and I went to visit his collection!"

"Oh, aye, the chappie with the mustache that could rival the Brigadier's?" Jamie asked. "He was a bit… Erm…"

"Yes, he is," the Doctor said with a smile, as Jamie continued to search for the right word. "But he's helped us out immensely, at any rate. Right; gather 'round, then—we've got some reading to do."

"Och, it says that there was a Pharaoh named Sethos who had an advisor who was plotting against him," Jamie said, scowling. He had a very low opinion of traitors, as loyalty was something he valued highly.

"Oh dear," the Doctor murmured. "I've met Sethos multiple times; I never did like the looks of that advisor, and it seems my instincts were not off at all!"

"It says this advisor guy made seven medallions that served to contact Osirians and other creatures from Egyptian lore and allow them to use their powers in the living world?" Tony said, in disbelief. " _Really_?"

"Tony, now is not the time for you to revert to your skeptic ways!" Carl chided him. "You saw Sutekh talk to us, and you took a ride in a time machine, so don't go telling me you can't believe this!"

"I don't know what to believe anymore," Tony confessed, with a sigh.

"One of the medallions was for the advisor's own spirit; he suspected that he would have been found out and executed," the Doctor said, reading from the book. "So he used the first one—a medallion with the image of a scorpion, symbolizing the Osirian Serket, whom he worshipped. She, however, wanted nothing to do with him, so he was on his own in regards to that medallion. So, for the other medallions, he called upon three beasts—Ammit, Apophis, and the Forbidden One—and three Osirians who were willing to help him—Sutekh, Anubis, and Anput."

"So why is Sutekh only worried about Anubis and Anput?" Carl asked. "He didn't mention any of the other guys."

"Aye, so much the better," Jamie said.

"Well, here's the answer," the Doctor said. "When a medallion is shattered, it breaks the creature's connection from _Duat_ to the world of the living."

"So… All we have to do is smash that medallion Sutekh is using?" Tony asked. "Sounds simple enough."

"I'm afraid it isn't as simple as that," the Doctor sighed. "The creatures bound to the medallions do their best to stop them. The first medallion to shatter was the Ammit Medallion; it was shattered in 1895 after two Americans successfully eluded the beast's relentless pursuit of them and two others they were traveling with. Next was the Apophis Medallion; that was shattered by an English corporal during the Second World War who had been forced to survive a realistic illusion of _Duat_ —and face the beast himself. Next was the advisor's own Scorpion Medallion; that was shattered a few years ago by some detectives from New York after the advisor's spirit attempted to possess one of them, and they had to help their comrade fight his influence off."

"I'm sensing a pattern here," said Carl. "The creature bound to the medallion seems to give some sort of mental test to the ones who shatter the medallion."

"It certainly seems so," the Doctor sighed. "At the very least, the ones who shatter the medallion have to prove that they have a strong enough will. The Medallion of the Forbidden one was shattered by a young musician from Malibu a couple years ago—again, after a test of mental strength. And those are the only ones that have been shattered."

"Och, the medallions with the Osirians havenae been shattered," Jamie realized.

"Yes, and their great mental strength must be why no one has succeeded in proving themselves to have a stronger will," the Doctor sighed. "It also means that I shall have to engage in a mental duel with Sutekh—and prove myself to be the strong one—so that his medallion can be smashed."

"But you said that Sutekh is stronger than you," Tony pointed out.

"He is, but he isn't at his full strength," the Doctor said. "He took me by surprise in the TARDIS, but if I know what I'm up against, then I should be able to gain the upper hand long enough in a mental duel for one of you to smash the medallion."

"So… you _do_ need our help?" Carl said, looking to Tony.

Tony rolled his eyes, but Jamie practically snapped to attention.

"Whate'er ye need me t' do, Doctor, I'll do it," he vowed. "I'll do whate'er I have t' in order t' smash the medallion."

"Nothing that will lead to your getting hurt," the Doctor insisted. "Or Mr. Kolchak or Mr. Vincenzo. I will not have the three of you taking any more risks than what is absolutely necessary."

"I'm at your disposal," Carl promised, choosing to ignore Tony as he began to protest Carl's statement. "Well, we know what to do with that medallion. But what I want to know is what does the Hall of Gems have to do with it? They already had the medallion before they broke into the museum."

"I'm still looking for the answer to that," the Doctor said, paging through the book. "There's rather quite a lot on the struggles between the Pharaoh Sethos and the advisor, once his treachery was exposed."

"Who won?" Jamie asked.

"No one, really; it was a constant stalemate that ended in a draw," the Doctor sighed. "It went on for years and years—and when it came to a head, the Pharaoh drove himself to fatal exhaustion to seal the traitor in _Duat_ —until only his scorpion medallion remained. The Pharaoh's son then ascended the throne and ordered the medallion destroyed, but no one was able to do so. After those who attempted to destroy it ended up under the influence of the advisor's spirit, the new Pharaoh ordered the medallions sealed away instead. Obviously, they were eventually uncovered by treasure-seekers." He sighed. "You know, it's quite ironic—Sethos's name is a reference to Sutekh's alternate name of Set; somehow, the very Osirian for which he was named ended up siding with his foe. Or, perhaps, Sethos turned away from Sutekh."

"Och, ye can always go back and ask him yerself; we need t' find oot about those gems that were stolen!" Jamie reminded him.

"Oh, yes; quite right…" The Doctor began to page through the book some more.

"Hey, I think I saw something," Tony said. "Go back a page…"

The Doctor obliged, revealing a page with a picture of an emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire arranged in a triangular formation.

"According to the book, what we have here are the Emerald of Ra, the Ruby of Osiris, and the Sapphire of Thoth," the Doctor said. "And… Oh dear…"

"I don't like the sound of that 'Oh dear,'" Carl commented. "What's the bad news?"

"The three medallions that house the spirits of the three renegade Osirians can also be used along with these three gems to unlock a doorway between the world of the living and the world of the dead," the Doctor said.

"So that's what he meant by the 'keys,'" Carl said, snapping his fingers. "He wanted those gems to unlock the doorway and allow him to escape the afterlife. And that will allow him to regain his full mental power, won't it?"

"I'm afraid so," the Doctor said. "The door can be opened once a month, at the height of the full moon, in the greatest concentration of the dead that can be located within the vicinity of five miles."

"The full moon is tonight!" Carl exclaimed, checking the phases on his smartphone. "No wonder Sutekh was in a hurry; he doesn't want to wait another month!"

"Och, then they're probably opening the gate right now!" Jamie exclaimed. "Sutekh might already be free!"

"No; no, I don't think so," the Doctor said. "They have to wait for it to reach its highest point—that's always midnight for the full moon. We've got two hours left! But where would they go!?"

"Largest concentration of the dead within five miles?" Tony asked. "That's gotta be Rosehill Cemetery."

Carl looked to Tony in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"After that fiasco with that killer zombie you kept talking about, I've made it a point to know the local cemeteries in case you went on one of your little quests again," the editor replied. "Rosehill is the largest cemetery in Chicago; that's got to be where they went."

"Then we must go at once!" the Doctor said. "We can't take the TARDIS; if Sutekh got his hands on her, it would be disastrous!"

"My Mustang is parked outside," Carl offered.

"We need a car, nae a horse!" Jamie exclaimed.

"…It is a car," Carl informed him.

"I'll explain it to him on the way," the Doctor said. "There's no time to lose!"

The Doctor, Jamie, and Carl headed out of Tony's office and out of the main one. Tony hesitated for just a moment before following them, with a resigned sigh.


	10. The Vengeance of Sutekh

The drive to Rosehill Cemetery was quiet and fraught with worry; they knew Sutekh would do his best to stop them from interfering. Whether or not they would succeed would be entirely dependent on how the Doctor fared in his mental duel with Sutekh.

As for his part, the Doctor was also wondering how he could possibly fare, as well; he didn't want to admit that his future self—therefore his more experienced self—hadn't been able to defeat Omega. And in the back of his mind was the looming question—if he was no match for a fellow Time Lord, how could he possibly last against an Osirian?

He exhaled. He would have to hold Sutekh at bay long enough for the others to do something—if for no other reason than that there simply wasn't any other choice. If Sutekh had his way, the entire galaxy would be in danger. That was something the Doctor simply could not allow.

The cultists were already there, standing amongst the gravestones as Carl drove the Mustang into the cemetery. The Doctor could spot one of the three gems—the Sapphire of Thoth—balanced upon a small obelisk, glittering slightly in the moonlight. The other two gems were, no doubt, already in position.

"So, Doctor," the distorted voice of the medallion-wearer said, as they approached. "You have arrived to witness my return?"

"Not quite," the Doctor said. "We aim to stop it. Your presence here will bring nothing but ill! You do nothing but destroy things!"

"I do not deny that, Doctor," Sutekh said, without a shred of remorse. "But do you honestly think your presence in this world benefits it in any way, Doctor?"

"I should think so!" the Doctor huffed, indignantly. "While you endeavor to destroy this world, I endeavor to protect it!"

"And all in vain. And that is why it will be most satisfying to force you to watch as I claim this place for myself," Sutekh replied.

"Ye're nae claiming anything!" Jamie said, angrily brandishing his knife at the puppet. "We're here t' stop ye from coming back!"

"And you have proven yourself to be a nuisance—all of you," Sutekh hissed. "You endeavor to stop my return, but what you fail to realize is that you are nothing compared to my mental strength. And don't think that I don't see you, you fool!"

Tony abruptly turned around to see Carl attempting to retrieve the Sapphire of Thoth from the obelisk. His hand was almost touching it as a large, lumbering mummy appeared from behind the obelisk. Carl let out a yell of fright and backed away as more mummies began to surround them, backed up by the robed cultists.

"How… how are they…?" Tony stammered, pointing at the mummies. "How's he doing that!?"

"He's controlling them mentally—it's the only explanation!" the Doctor exclaimed. "If I can engage him in a mental duel, it should stop them! Sutekh!"

"You challenge me, Time Lord?"

"Yes!" the Doctor said. "Until you escape from the Nethersphere, your mental strength is limited enough to give me a fair chance!"

Sutekh chuckled.

"As you wish, plaything of Sutekh," he sneered. "You will provide me much entertainment until I am able to return. And then, I'll be able to break you the moment my spirit is freed!"

"No, ye won'!" Jamie yelled.

"Jamie…" the Doctor said, as he now sat on the ground in a lotus position.

"Aye?"

"Once this duel begins, I shan't be able to talk to you; anything that causes my concentration to break will be disastrous," he said. "So I need you, Mr. Kolchak, and Mr. Vincenzo to know what to do."

"Get those gemstones to stop him from coming back, and then smash the medallion?" Carl asked.

"Quite right, but don't put yourselves at too much risk," the Doctor said. "You're outnumbered, but those cultists are only human—just. If you can get past them, you can grab the medallion from the puppet's neck. But do try to go for the gems, as well; moving them just out of alignment will prevent the door from opening."

"Aye," Jamie said. "Good luck, Doctor."

The Doctor nodded and closed his eyes; the puppet did the same, and the mummies stopped in their tracks as Sutekh focused his concentration. Jamie stepped back from the Doctor, realizing that there was a great battle going on that he couldn't see. More than anything, he yearned for a chance to help the Doctor fight.

"You can't help him that way, Kid," Carl said, seeing the look in his eyes. "Just do what he told you."

"Aye," Jamie said. "Ye and Mr. Vincenzo go for the gems; I'll go and smash the medallion."

"Just you try it," the lead cultist sneered. "With the Time Lord being a sitting duck, it should be easy to get him to lose this little battle."

The female cultist who had attacked Jamie at the museum was now approaching the Doctor, who was oblivious to her incoming attack. The piper immediately put himself between her and the Doctor, holding out his knife.

"Ye willnae touch him," he hissed.

She didn't seem to be concerned at all by this; a smirk played about her lips as she stepped closer, distracting him as another one of the cultists—this one wearing a mask beneath his hood—approached the Doctor from behind with a magician's stage sword.

The piper did hear the man's footfalls, however; he whirled around at the last minute, parrying the sword blade with his knife. Immediately, he followed this with a left hook, sending the cultist backwards; the cultist dropped the sword as he went tumbling backwards over a gravestone; Jamie retrieved the blade and whirled back around to face the female cultist. Now alarmed that Jamie was armed with a more intimidating weapon, she did step back from him and the Doctor.

Carl and Tony, in the meantime, were standing back to back as the other cultists approached them.

"Tony, you know something about fighting, right?" Carl asked.

"Eh, well I boxed once. A long time ago," the editor said.

"In that case, I really hope you remember something about it," the reporter responded, throwing the first punch.

The brawl broke out immediately; Carl was hoping to get past them long enough to move the Sapphire of Thoth—still the nearest of the three gems. Jamie stood by the Doctor's side, brandishing the stolen sword at anyone who neared him.

It was Tony who was able to plow free of the mob of cultists; to his alarm, Carl was still in the middle of the fray.

"Carl-!"

"Tony, forget about me—get that medallion!"

A scrawny cultist now leaped at Tony; the editor batted him away with a backhand before looking around, briefly, for the other gems; the Sapphire was out of reach—he'd have to go back through the brawl to get it.

The lead cultist now charged at him; Jamie leaped out of nowhere, giving the cultist a warning slice on the arm while cursing in Gaelic.

"Protect the Doctor," Jamie said to Tony. "I'll get the medallion."

"If you're sure, Kid…" Tony said, taking the post in front of the trancelike Doctor.

Carl was desperately clobbering at the cultists surrounding him with the metal cross he always carried with him; Tony did look as though he was ready to abandon the post to help, but Carl once again insisted for him to stay back; the reporter knew that the Doctor's safety was paramount in this case.

Jamie, who had been brandishing the sword at anyone who dared approach him, now neared the puppet. He had just reached his hand out to grab the medallion when it suddenly began to glow, rising out of its own accord.

The puppet fell to the ground, comatose, as the medallion abandoned him, floating in midair. And, somewhere nearby, a clock tower chimed midnight.

"No!" the piper exclaimed, realizing what it meant.

A light from each of the three gems struck the floating medallion; the cultists now stopped their brawl, watching the sight. Carl chose the moment to break free from the crowd, hobbling to Tony's side.

"Don't gawk at it, Kid!" he yelled to Jamie. "Smash that thing!"

"Aye, right!" Jamie exclaimed.

He raised the sword he had been holding, aiming at the medallion when it became surrounded by a bright, rectangular light that expanded from the sides, just like an opening doorway.

The medallion was still suspended in the middle of the doorway, and Jamie would have followed through with hurling the sword at it had he not found himself staring into the face of a woman he hadn't seen since her death, when he had been just a child-

"… _Mum_ …?" he asked, his voice reduced to a mere squeak.

"My dear, wee James…" she responded, a sad smile crossing her features. "Look at ye—how ye've grown…!"

Other Highlanders were reaching her side; Jamie recognized them all: his father and brothers, and his old best friend, Alexander McLaren—all of whom had fallen at the hands of the Redcoats at Culloden.

"Oh, great; we're toast…" Carl said, recognizing their Highland garb. "Sutekh's using them to distract the kid until he can make it through the gate! Tony, it's up to us now…" He trailed off as he noticed that the editor was staring at the gate as well—not at the assembled Highlanders, but at someone else—a teenage boy—who was visible beyond the open doorway. "Oh, no. Tony, no…"

"It's Eric…" Tony said.

Carl gave the grieving father a sidelong glance. His shoulders slumped; he couldn't ask Tony to go smash the medallion now. And Jamie was out of it, as well—talking to his family and to Alexander.

Carl glanced behind him, making sure that the Doctor was okay; he was, though beads of perspiration were pouring down his face—Sutekh was getting closer, meaning that the fight was becoming more and more difficult.

The cultists appeared to be frozen in shock; the female cultist even appeared to be searching for someone beyond the doorway—someone she had lost, no doubt. Carl determined that they were no longer a threat and that the time to act was immediate and limited. He pressed forward, freezing in his tracks about halfway there when he heard a familiar voice call out his name.

"Carl!"

"No…" the reporter winced, shutting his eyes. "No, we can't do this. Not now." But the temptation to look was too much. Despite himself, he glanced at the doorway, his heart skipping a beat as he saw her—the wife he had lost in a brutal robbery and homicide at a convenience store years and years ago. "Louise…!"

That was it, he decided. All three of them had been hooked, gaffed, and hauled aboard by Sutekh's bait. How could they possibly shatter the medallion now, knowing that the doorway would close, and they could no longer see their departed loved ones again?

And there, behind all of the gathered spirits, the jackal-headed Sutekh was approaching the doorway.

"Sentimental fools," Sutekh sneered. "How easy it is to manipulate you—all that needs to be done is to give you a chance to speak to those you lost! And my return is at hand—with every step I take, my power grows!"

The Doctor suddenly let out a cry. Jamie, at last, turned away from his family, staring in horror as the Doctor began to clutch at his head in pain.

"Doctor!" he cried, horrified that he had fallen for Sutekh's trick and allowed the Doctor to suffer for it.

"The Time Lord is nothing compared to me; he cannot save you or your precious little planet now! But fear not; you will be forever reunited with your loved ones momentarily. I can grant you that."

"No," Louise said, coldly.

Carl, who had also been glancing back at the Doctor in guilt and horror, looked back at his wife, who was glaring daggers at Sutekh.

"You're not going to hurt my dad or anyone," Eric added.

"Aye," Donald McCrimmon added. "We're nae here t' serve ye, ye great beastie! I came t' see my wee lad, nae t' allow ye t' kill him—or that Doctor who saved him!"

"Aye, the Doctor saved my sister and my father," Alexander hissed. "I will repay my debt t' him!"

There were more spirits showing up now, ones that were unfamiliar to Jamie, Carl, and Tony—a redheaded woman flanked by a man in a Centurion's armor, a short brunette holding onto the hand of a much taller man, a boy with a gold-star badge, a long-haired woman dressed in traditional Trojan garb, a woman wearing a Space Security Service uniform… All of them were standing in front of Sutekh's path, angrily telling him that they were going to defend the Doctor from him, as well. And as Sutekh found himself distracted by all of them, the Doctor's pain seemed to lessen as Sutekh further lost focus in their duel.

Alexander's spirit now drew his claymore.

" _Creag an Tuire_!" he roared, as he furiously ran at Sutekh. Jamie's father and brothers were right behind him, but his mother hesitated.

"James…" she said, and the piper turned back to face her. "James, ye know what ye must do."

Jamie looked back at the Doctor once more, seeing him still fighting with all of his mental strength. Next, he looked to Carl and Tony, as though silently asking them for permission; they both nodded. Jamie then glanced back at his mother's spirit and nodded to her, as well, raising the sword in his hand and echoing the war cry that Alexander had just shouted moments ago—

" _Creag an Tuire_!"

He hurled the sword at the suspended medallion; with a crack, the blade pierced it, dead center, and the medallion broke apart.

Sutekh's roar of utter frustration filled both sides of the doorway as the light shrank back down, signifying that it was collapsing shut. And Jamie stared at his mother's face until she was no longer visible, his heart twisting in his chest as he saw her smiling proudly, just before the doorway collapsed.

Then, there was nothing—nothing but the sword and pieces of the medallion laying on the ground in front of him. Around them, the cultists were running for the hills; the lead cultist was yelling at his followers to grab the three gemstones, and the former comatose puppet was now reviving—very confused and running away in a blind panic. Jamie stood there, blankly, not reacting to it; Carl was the first to snap out of it and try to pursue the cultists before they got the gems, but it was only a half-hearted effort, and they'd had too much of a headstart. Tony now hobbled to the Doctor's side as he came out of his trance; the editor helped him up.

"Oh, my word…" the Doctor said, shaking off the last of the mental cobwebs. "Thank you. Well, then! We've done it! Sutekh is trapped in the Nethersphere and will never pose a threat to…" He trailed off, seeing the pained look on Tony's face. "What happened?" The Doctor looked to Carl next, who was leaning against an obelisk for support, emotionally drained from what had just transpired. The Doctor then looked to the piper, who was turned away from him, looking at the fragments of the medallion. "Jamie…?"

The Doctor had not been prepared for the pain and guilt—and tears—in the young Scot's eyes as he turned back to face him. The Doctor was at his side in an instant, and Jamie responded by clinging to him tightly, shaking with suppressed sobs.

It only took the Doctor a moment to use his touch telepathy to understand what had transpired while he had been locked in the mental duel.

"Oh, Jamie…" he sighed.

It was a victory for them, he realized—but a very bitter one indeed.

* * *

 **Epilogue: To Absent Friends**

It was a quiet and somber discussion that ensued between the Doctor, Jamie, Carl, and Tony as they sat at a table in a nearby bar. They were all drinking scotch—even Tony, who knew that milk wasn't going to cut it this time.

The breaking news report on the TV in the bar announced that the comatose people had now awakened; they had suspected this, having seen the puppet in the cemetery wake up and run after the medallion had been shattered.

Despite this, there was a rather glum aura around the table, and there didn't seem to be much to celebrate. The events at the cemetery had left them all upset—and bitter that they couldn't have done more.

"I've fought against demons with illusionary magic, vampires with superhuman strength, a servant of the Devil himself…" Carl sighed. "And tonight, of all nights, is when I freeze up—when the fate of the entire galaxy is at stake!"

"You couldn't help it, Carl," Tony sighed. "I was just as useless."

"None of you can possibly be blamed for what happened!" the Doctor insisted.

"How can ye say that?" Jamie asked, bitterly. "Ye were being hurt by Sutekh because I didnae smash the medallion right away."

"You're only human," the Doctor said. "And, even then, I'm not sure if I had been conscious of the fact that some people I knew were there, too, that I would have been able to break it myself. I'm afraid I don't recognize the descriptions of all of the other spirits you saw, but I do recognize two of them—Katarina and Sara Kingdom. They traveled with me for some time…"

"What happened to them, if you don't mind my asking?" Carl asked.

The Doctor's expression now had a flicker of guilt, as well.

"Katarina thought I was Zeus, ready to transport her to my Palace of Perfection," he said. "Nothing I said dissuaded her from that. When she was taken hostage and used as a bargaining chip against me, she simply decided to sacrifice herself so that I… wouldn't have to choose." He sighed. "Sara Kingdom was lost to me because she wouldn't follow my instructions; I'd told her to stay behind as I needed to activate an extremely dangerous Time Destructor… She followed me and was affected by it."

"Ye ne'er told me…" Jamie said, surprised.

"Well, now you know," the Doctor said. "So I hope you'll actually listen to me the next time I tell you not to wander off!"

The piper's response was a rather noncommittal sigh.

"You did your best," Tony said. "When they don't listen to you, there's nothing you can do. Doesn't stop you from blaming yourself, though." He shook his head. "Couldn't save my own kid from that, and tonight, he stood up to Sutekh to save _me_."

"And Louise was ready to protect the idiot reporter husband who wasn't even there for her when she needed him most," Carl sighed.

"Yeah, well…" Tony said. "I always said she was a saint for putting up with you."

"I believe it," Carl said, without a trace of irony.

Jamie was silent for a moment before realizing it was his turn next.

"My mother died of the pox when I was a bairn," he said. "The rest of my family were killed by the Redcoats in 1746. Alexander, too—I'd been traveling with him and his family after I'd lost mine. Then the Doctor showed up and we were all suspicious of him, but then the Redcoats attacked 'cause that idiot Ben shot a gun off and alerted them t' our position. Alexander tried to fight them off. He di'n e'en last thirty seconds against them…"

Jamie didn't bother explaining who Ben was; though he knew that Ben hadn't meant to shoot the pistol off, the possibility still haunted Jamie that, if he hadn't done so, Alexander might not have been killed.

"Well," Carl sighed, raising his glass. "Here's to those on the other side who saved all our lives tonight."

Tony, the Doctor, and Jamie followed suit, and they fell silent for a moment as they drank to their memories.

"What are we going t' do aboot the coven?" Jamie asked, at last. "They ran off with the three gemstones."

"Hmm," the Doctor mused. "Well, I do wonder if they intend to sell those gems or attempt to find another of the two surviving medallions and summon Anubis or Anput. I doubt that either of the two remaining Osirians will end up not betraying them… But I am concerned about the notion that Anput requires a sacrifice of fifty souls. The last thing we would want is for innocents to suffer, after all."

Tony winced.

"Can you guys leave me out of this one?" he asked. "I think I've had more than I can take."

"Understandable," the Doctor said. "I doubt those cultists will stick around Chicago anyway."

"Good," Carl murmured, going over something on his smartphone now. "I've seen enough of them to last a lifetime…"

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Tony said. "Look, I'm gonna go call for some cabs for us."

"And I'm going to freshen up this drink with a little ginger ale," the Doctor sighed. "Would you like another, Jamie?"

"Nae really…" Jamie said.

The Doctor gave Jamie's shoulder a squeeze as he and Tony got up from the table. Carl, who had still been looking over his phone, now let out an "Aha!"

"What?" Jamie asked.

"I was wondering whether either of the last two medallions were around somewhere…" Carl said. "Didn't get anything on the Anput medallion, but it turns out the Anubis medallion is currently in the possession of a young businessman in Domino, Oregon."

"Och, if ye could find that oot that quickly, the coven is probably on the way there," Jamie said. "Assuming that they want t' revive Sutekh's son as a replacement. It's the one aboot the fifty souls that scares me, though—Anput."

"As it should…"

"Aye, but, the coven knows that the Doctor has thirteen souls. They may still go after him since that'll make it easier for them," Jamie said. "I cannae let them do that after I nearly let him doon tonight. I have t' stop them."

"…You're going to Oregon?" Carl asked, stunned.

"Aye, I think so," Jamie agreed. "I'll have t' talk to the Doctor aboot it. I'd like t' go withoot him, in case they're already there, but I don' know if he'd like the idea of me going alone."

"I doubt he would," Carl said. "But why do you want to get yourself in deeper with these guys? I don't ask for all these supernatural happenings to fall on me; if I had the chance to avoid them, I'd do it."

"The Doctor once said that 'there are some corners of the universe which have bred the most terrible things.' And that they must be fought. And it's nae e'eryone who'll do that."

"So you've taken it upon yourself?" Carl asked.

"Ye seem t' have, too."

Carl gave him a look. Jamie did have a point.

"…You're alright, Kid," he said. "Here; give me your phone for a sec."

"Oh, aye. The password—"

"I figured that out already—back at the museum," Carl informed him, with a wan chuckle. "Okay, I'm programming my number into your contacts. If you do end up heading out to Oregon and things start happening over there, let me know. I'll try to help you out in any way I can."

"Aye, thanks," Jamie said, as Carl handed him his phone back.

"And hey, who knows—even if Oregon turns out to be a big red herring, we might end up crossing paths again," Carl mused.

"I hope so," Jamie said, sincerely.

The two of them looked up as the Doctor and Tony returned, talking among themselves until they reached the table.

"The cabs will be here in a couple minutes; we should wait outside for them," Tony informed them. "Are you going to be sticking around town, Doctor?"

"That's doubtful; Jamie and I are rather nomadic, as it were. But I must thank you for letting me hide the TARDIS in your office," the Doctor replied.

"Oh, sure," Tony said, shaking the Doctor's hand again. "Just do me a favor and lock up before you warp out of there, huh?"

"Certainly," the Doctor promised.

"Thanks. You two take care," Tony added, shaking Jamie's hand, as well.

The piper nodded in response.

"Hey, wait a minute, Tony; I'll go with you," Carl said, deciding that Tony probably could use his company, even if he'd never admit it. He, too, shook the Doctor and Jamie's hands farewell as they all headed out to the sidewalk.

The cabs soon arrived, and both parties exchanged one last set of farewells as they went their separate ways. Though the future remained uncertain and that they had been reminded of those they had lost, the fact remained that Sutekh was no longer a threat to the populace of Earth—and the rest of the galaxy.

They could take heart in the fact that it definitely counted for something.

 **The End**

* * *

 _Notes: And, it's done! Thanks to everyone who followed this! Like Tony's son (whose name was never specified in canon), Carl's wife Louise is also from the Kolchak EU; the details on Jamie's family are sketchy at best, and only his father, Donald McCrimmon, was specified in the Doctor Who EU; I gave him two more brothers, and went along with an assumption that they all perished during the Battle of Culloden, which was my explanation as to why Jamie was traveling with the McClarens instead of his own family when we first see him. And I realize that I've left this in a rather open, semi-downer ending; I intend to complete this "arc" of the medallions at some point in the future, so I apologize for this; I'm aware it's nothing like the feel-good endings I usually write_.


End file.
